


Beneath Their Masks: Guitar Strings

by Mazanica



Series: Beneath Their Masks [3]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Abuse and neglect, And all types of abuse are in this story okay, Anthro AU, But otherwise it's full of cliches, Cliches like the unpopular kid is rich and the popular characters fall for the unpopular characters, Depression, F/F, Friendship, Future themes of violence, Hinted noncon, Hurt/Comfort/Angst, Like there's no heterosexuals at all in here, M/M, Maybe hints of Mike/Jeremy, Original/Toys, Other, Romance, Suicidal thoughts/themes, This story has a really dark part, Transgender Agender Mangle, Yaoi and Yuri, explicit noncon, highschool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:33:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6629674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazanica/pseuds/Mazanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion Piece, Bonnie and Blu's Side.</p><p>--</p><p>Bonnie Henderson was popular, talented, had wonderful friends and loving parents, and he was observant. He never much cared for "Springtrap" and his friends, but when he gets paired up with "Blu" Rodriguez in science, he immediately realizes that something isn't right with the younger rabbit- and by extension, the rabbit's friends. Determined to not be a bystander while his classmates' lives fall apart, he begins getting to know the unpopular, close-knit group and finds that they're actually pretty fun. Now if only he could convince them to get help before it's too late.</p><p>Blu was bright and positive and happy. His classmates knew him as the annoyingly optimistic kid. His friends knew it to be him desperately clinging to a reason to live. His friends are the only people he cares about, so when he gets partnered with Bonnie Henderson he is not happy one bit. Unfortunately, his new lab partner is much more observant than he would like. Wanting to keep everything from falling apart, Blu does whatever he can think of to keep Bonnie at a distance, but doing this becomes that much harder when he realizes he actually enjoys the other's company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to Beneath Their Masks: Guitar Strings! If you’re looking at this, well, I can honestly say I’m surprised but pleased. This is a Companion Fic to Behind Their Masks: The Golden Rule, Lyrical Harmony, Pirate’s Life, and Half-Baked!
> 
> These fics are all the same “story” told from the perspective of different couples and, in case you failed to notice, these are all GoldenSpring and Original/Toy, but the pairings are most evident in their own fics. It’ll be a while until any pairings happen, though; first they all need to become friends.
> 
> Warnings: RATED M FOR FUTURE THEMES. Homosexuality, bullying, cliques, transgender issues (DMAB-Agender Mangle), sexual themes, sexual abuse & rape, physical, emotional, mental abuse, parental neglect, severe depression and suicidal themes/attempted suicide, chronic nightmares and night terrors, this story will get very dark at one point.
> 
> Pairings: Bonnie/Toy Bonnie (Blu), Freddy/Toy Freddy (Alfred), Foxy/Funtime Foxy (Mangle), Chica/Toy Chica (Chii), Goldie/Spring
> 
> Disclaimer: I own none of the characters!

The guitar drowned out the sounds of the screaming. Perhaps that was the main reason he played. Well- no, he knew that wasn’t true. As he sat on his bed, fingers strumming across the strings of his red treasure, a small smile on his face despite his flattened ears and tearing eyes, he knew the real reason he played was because it helped him. It helped him hang on to that snatch of sanity that the constant screaming and fighting tried to steal from him.  
  
It was a beautiful sound. It expressed everything he needed to say- everything he needed anyone else to know. But in that little apartment, with the walls that tried to suffocate him, where on one side of his room a couple screamed in Spanish and on the other a child wailed for its overworked parents’ attention, no one understood the call for help.  
  
Well. That wasn’t true. His ears twitched as he heard his phone vibrate and he stopped strumming his guitar. A glance at the caller ID caused a wide grin to split out over his face and he set his beloved escape aside before hurrying to the window and forcing it open, climbing out onto the fire escape that ran under it and barely closing the window before answering the phone to his _other_ escape.  
  
“Blu!” a voice called cheerily on the other line. “So glad you picked up!”  
  
“Of course I picked up,” Blu laughed as he leaned against the wall next to his window. He glanced at the dark sky. “I’m surprised you’re still awake, don’t you usually sleep early Sunday nights, Chii?”  
  
“Yeah,” Chii sighed from the other side, “but, uh, Alfred needed a place to crash. He’s here with me, um, apparently his dad had a bit of a freak-out…”  
  
“Ah…” Blu trailed off with a frown. “Why isn’t he with Spring? I mean- Spring’s parents aren’t even in town.”  
  
“Spring’s not home right now, though,” Chii told him. “Remember? He had that thing tonight.”  
  
“Oh, right… well, is Alfred alright?” Blu asked, glancing towards his window as the Spanish got louder. “I mean- they didn’t…?”  
  
“He dodged. His, uh, dad was drinking again.”  
  
“I know that feelin’,” Blu sighed, sliding down the rough brick wall so that he was sitting, ignoring the way it scraped against his back. “But he’s alright?”  
  
“Yeah, he is. Oh- here, he wants to speak to you.”  
  
“Blu,” the deeper, but softer, voice of his other friend greeted simply. Alfred was a bear of few words; he spoke more with his actions than anything else.  
  
“Hey, Al,” Blu said, smiling a bit and wiping at his eyes to finally get rid of the tears still gathered there. “Everything alright on your side of hell?”  
  
“As well as can be,” he confirmed, his voice as calm as ever. Blu almost missed the little quiver that told him it wasn’t as alright as he was saying, but what was new there? “And you?”  
  
“Parents dissolved into shrieking in Spanish again,” Blu answered as casually as he could. “They haven’t turned it on me yet, though, so, uh… that’s something.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Any word from Mangle?” Blu inquired, pretending that the shouting hadn’t approached his bedroom and could be heard through the mostly-closed window.  
  
“No.” Well that was worrying. Alfred sounded rather upset, too, and Blu frowned. He could imagine the bear frowning deeply, his brows drawn together and his rosy cheeks more flushed than normal. “I tried to call, they did not answer.”  
  
“You think…?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Blu’s ears drooped again and he leaned his forehead against his knees. _Of course_. “Right.” His ears perked right back up, hearing banging on his bedroom door. He forced himself to his feet and began prying the window back open again. “Guys, I gotta go, my mother’s at the door.”  
  
“Be careful,” Alfred advised, his worry clear even through the phone.   
  
“Blu?” Chii was worried too. “We’ll see you tomorrow at school, yeah?”  
  
“Of course,” Blu laughed, trying not to let his unease slip into his voice. “Who’d miss the first day of senior year?”  
  
“You missed the first day of freshman year…”  
  
“Yeah, well… senior year is different,” Blu assured her, glancing nervously at the window. The doorknob was jiggling. “I need to hide my guitar, guys. Seeya tomorrow, and if you hear from Spring or Mangle say hi for me.” He didn’t wait for a response before hanging up and practically diving through his window, picking his guitar up and carefully- but quickly- setting it in its tattered old case. He slid the case under his bed and let his yellow comforter drop down over the edge, blocking the shadowed area from sight.   
  
The blue rabbit managed to drop down on his bed and grab his textbook a moment before the demon of his “home” swooped in, silver key in hand and a drunken flush on her lovely face. In her other hand she held a bottle of vodka and Blu knew it wasn’t her first or second.  
  
Tonight would be a long night.

* * *

The obnoxious ringing of a phone filled the purple rabbit’s room and he let out a groan, dropping his pen on his desk. He snatched the phone up and answered without looking at the caller ID; only one person had that ringtone, after all. _Yo-ho yo-ho, a pirate’s life for me!_  
  
“Dammit, Foxy, I’m in the middle of that essay,” he complained, frowning as the fox laughed at him.  
  
“Sorry, Bonnie-lad!” the fox cackled, “But Freddy ‘nd I did tell ya to do it earlier this summer.”  
  
“How was I supposed to know it’d take me three weeks to read that stupid book?” Bonnie asked with an overdramatic sigh, leaning back in his chair to gaze around the room. “Besides, Goldie still hasn’t started his and it’s almost eleven.”  
  
“Little late, mate, he did his two weeks ago,” Foxy snorted. “He read the book in two days flat- even with us distractin’ him.”  
  
“Wait- Goldie’s already done it?” Bonnie stared at the wall for several seconds of silence- bar the fox’s obnoxiously-loud laughter- before groaning and letting his head smack down onto his essay. “And lemme guess- Chica did hers when you and Freddy did yours.”  
  
“Yep. We invited you and Goldie, ya know, but y’all two decided a jam session sounded better.”  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
“Sorry, lad, you’re like a brother to me.”  
  
Bonnie snorted at that, sitting up straight in his chair again. “Jerk. So, Foxy, how’s your mom and mama?”  
  
“They’re fine,” Foxy answered. “Mama’s in England right now for a shoot but she called today. Kind’a amazin’, ya know, since it was like midnight there when she did. Mom’s put in for vacation for Christmas already,” he added. “They said you guys can come with us, by the way- we’re goin’ to New York to watch the ball drop.”  
  
“Sounds fun,” Bonnie chuckled, picking his pen up again to continue writing. “I’ll ask ma about it, no promises.”  
  
“How’s the lass doin’? I know things have been tough for her since Jimmy passed.”  
  
Bonnie frowned slightly, staring at the page. “She’s doing well enough. She’s back to work now that everything’s settled with the will and family and all, but she’s pretty lonely now. Dad told me he thinks she should start dating again, but I don’t think she’s ready.”  
  
“Two months ain’t enough time,” Foxy agreed. “But it’s good she’s back to work, surprised they let her stay out this long.”  
  
“Well when you’re one of the higher-ups you get away with a lot of stuff,” Bonnie pointed out with a laugh. “She- oh, wait, hold up, getting another call.” At Foxy’s ‘okay,’ Bonnie pulled the phone away from his ear and answered the second call. “Hey, Freddy, what’s up?”  
  
“Hey, Bonnie,” the smooth voice greeted amicably but Bonnie could hear a hint of irritation seeping through. “Do you know where Goldie is? He isn’t picking up and it’s already eleven, mom and dad are freaking out.”   
  
“Oh, um, didn’t he go downtown tonight? Something about a show he wanted to see,” Bonnie answered, tapping the pen boredly against his cheek. “I dunno, I was only half-listening- you and Foxy were having a french-fry war at the time, so… that was much more entertaining.”  
  
The bear on the other end of the line let out a deep sigh. “Well he forgot to tell mom and dad. They’re worried sick ‘bout him.”  
  
“Just send him a text warning,” Bonnie suggested with a shrug.  
  
“Yeah, I suppose. We still on for tomorrow night?”  
  
“If I finish this essay, duh we are,” Bonnie laughed, twirling his pen. “C’mon, videogames and pizza? Who’s gonna turn that down?”  
  
Freddy chuckled. “Of course. Let’s just hope Goldie doesn’t get himself grounded, mom and dad won’t let him go.”  
  
“Here’s to hopin’,” Bonnie agreed. “Is that all ya needed?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m gonna head to bed now. You should too. Oh wait- you can’t,” the bear teased. Bonnie could practically hear that grin.  
  
“Oh shut it, Fazbear,” Bonnie sighed. “Well then, goodnight, Freddy. I’m gonna keep talkin’ to Foxy now. By the way, his moms have invited us to go to New York with them over Christmas and New Years.”  
  
“I’ll have to ask mom and dad about it but they didn’t oppose to us going to France last year so I doubt New York will be a problem.”  
  
“True,” Bonnie chuckled. “Night, Fred.”  
  
“Night, Bonnie. Give Foxy my love,” he added sarcastically before hanging up and Bonnie laughed, switching back over to Foxy.  
  
“What was it?” Foxy asked as he heard the rabbit’s laughter.  
  
“Freddy was just askin’ if I knew where Goldie was and told me to give you his love,” Bonnie told him in the most sugary voice he could manage.  
  
“Aww, how sweet,” Foxy drawled just as sarcastically, a grin clear through the phone. “I always knew that bear liked me best!”  
  
“Oh no, I’m still his favourite,” Bonnie countered with a mock-haughty sniff. “Always have been, always will be.”  
  
“Hmmm, naahhhh.”  
  
“So Freddy says he’ll ask his parents about Christmas, but really, they probably won’t mind,” Bonnie told him, changing the subject. “I mean we went to France last year, New York is a hop, skip, and a jump away.”  
  
“True! But ya know how parents can be,” Foxy reminded him with a laugh of his own. “I’ll let ya get back to your essay now. Good luck!”  
  
“Thanks Foxy,” Bonnie laughed, hanging up as his friend did. He stared down at the paper and frowned in thought. “I hate this book,” he decided with a groan as he continued writing, not caring that his careful script slowly turned into rushed chicken scratch. He actually wanted to get some sleep that night.  
  
It wasn’t every day that you started your final year of highschool, after all.  
  
It was half past midnight by the time he turned his lights out and crawled into bed. He curled up under his blankets with a contented sigh, enjoying the soft warmth, while in a small, cold apartment across town a small rabbit lay still and silent in his own bed, staring at his wall and ignoring the sounds around him. Sleep came easy to the former. Sleep did not come to the latter.


	2. Beginning of a Long Year, Bonnie

“Your tail is smothering me!”  
  
“Your ears are in my way!”  
  
“You’re practically sitting on me, you jerk, my ears are in my space! Just like you are!”  
  
“Both of you just shut up already!”  
  
Bonnie blinked and looked up towards the front of the car, grinning at Freddy through the reflection in the rearview mirror. “Sorry!”  
  
“No you’re not,” Freddy accused, glancing at the mirror. “Your grin says it all.”  
  
“Sorry~” he repeated sarcastically.  
  
“Ugh,” Freddy groaned, shaking his head. “Morons, all of you.”  
  
“He’s the one with his ears in my face!” Foxy exclaimed in mock-offense.  
  
“You’re practically crawling on my lap!”  
  
“Foxy, sit down before I glue your butt to that bench!”  
  
“Alright, alright!” Foxy laughed, scooting back into his seat in the middle and leaning back. Bonnie shot a look to Chica over their shorter friend’s head; the chicken was clearly amused by all of this, leaning against the armrest and watching them with a smirk tilting the edge of her beak up.  
  
“I agree with Freddy, you’re all morons,” she stated with a laugh, eyes sliding over to Goldie. “So, Gold, how was your concert last night?”  
  
Foxy elbowed her in the side as Goldie immediately piped up with, “It was _amazing_! My only regret is not being able to stay for the whole thing and not getting a gold pass, I could have met Jan J!”  
  
“Fanboy,” Bonnie coughed into his fist and laughed as Goldie shot him a glare from the passenger seat. “What? Don’t act like it ain’t true!”  
  
“Well you’re a Graham fanboy,” he accused with a sniff. “So hello, pot.”  
  
“Hey, I am a proud hypocrite!”  
  
Foxy laughed, Chica and Goldie snorted, and Freddy just sighed and shook his head.  
  
“Dear lord, y’all are messed up,” he deadpanned, barely glancing at them in the mirror.  
  
“But you’re grinning,” Goldie accused with a grin towards his brother.  
  
“You’re all _my_ morons, so it’s fine.”  
  
“I think you will find that I am my _own_ moron,” Bonnie drawled in a mock-British accent, earning laughs from Foxy and Chica and a guffaw from Goldie.  
  
“Nah, you’re all mine,” Freddy declared, waving a hand in the air dismissively.  
  
“Geez, thanks,” Goldie snorted, looking over his shoulder towards them. “Guys, we’re property now!”  
  
“What’s new there?” Chica questioned, the edges of her beak turned up in a grin now. “Freddy’s always takin’ care of us.”  
  
“I think you’ll find ma does a wonderful job of taking care of me,” Bonnie stated, unbuckling his belt and slipping out of the car once Freddy had parked. “Now, y’all hooligans, on the other hand…”  
  
“Who you callin’ a hooligan?”  
  
“You, Foxy, you!”  
  
They laughed and headed towards the school’s front entrance, Bonnie hitching his guitar case up on his shoulder. It was bright and sunny, warm for being 7:35 in the morning but what was new for early August? The bell for classes would ring in five minutes but none of them were worried about getting to class on time.  
  
After all, they had music first thing in the morning, nothing to worry about. It was right down the hall to the right of the front entrance- near the front offices but far enough away that the sound won’t bother the administrators or guests. They had plenty of time to get there.  
  
As they entered the school, though, Bonnie’s eyes were drawn towards the cafeteria. It was full of students waiting for the bell to ring, mostly humans but Animals wandered around throughout the crowd. Right before they entered the hallway, he caught sight of a bright blue bunny leaning against a taller gold rabbit, a wide smile on his face as they both laughed about something or other on the blue rabbit’s phone. Irritation immediately swept through him at the sight of their “enemy” group and he was glad when a wall blocked the nuisances from his sight.  
  
If one were to ask Bonnie just why he didn’t like Bonito Rodriguez’s group of friends, his answer would be simple; they were annoying. Of course that wasn’t the full extent of it- it was so much more complicated than that. At first it had simply been to fit in with everyone else in school, though they had taken it a bit farther; they didn’t spread rumours or talk behind their backs- what was the point of that?- but they did make their dislike clear, sending little sneers and scowls their way and finding fault in everything they did.  
  
One day, though, they started… _responding_ to them with their own scowls and sneers, their own eye-rolls, but then they would just turn around and return to smiling with their friends as they talked about whatever they had done the night before and it just solidified their animosity, and the Fazcrew made even more of a show of their dislike. But that annoying group had drawn so far into their own world that half the time Bonnie and his friends’ actions weren’t even noticed. He didn’t mind that, of course, but hell, can’t they be _consistent_? They didn’t notice anything except each other and didn’t even respond when others tried to approach them… which, actually, hadn’t happened for many years now. Not since people began realizing the Fazcrew didn’t like them. And whatever the popular people thought was obviously true, right?  
  
They made it to the music room and entered just as the bell rang, immediately claiming their spots and Bonnie set his guitar down on a shelf where it would stay until the day was over. Normally he had no problem carrying it around all day but after last year when one of his teachers nearly had a hernia because he had _dared_ to bring a “leisure object” into the classroom he was told to leave it in the music room during the day. _Such bull_.  
  
“So what do you guys think about our schedules this year?” Foxy asked conversationally, lounging in his seat and watching his friends.  
  
Bonnie shrugged and dropped down in the seat next to him. They already knew the director would move them around to best fit their voices but they didn’t mind. “I dunno, I’m kinda really miffed that they switched all of us from theory to art. I mean, do any of us even draw?”  
  
“It is kinda stupid,” Chica agreed from her seat, leaning on her propped knee. “I wasn’t even in theory, they switched my cooking class to next period and put me in fourth period art. That’s just annoying.”  
  
“And what the hell is “advanced senior science” anyway?” Goldie questioned with a snort, straightening his shirt. “And how did we get in there? I remember signing up for human anatomy.”  
  
“And I remember signing up for French, not Spanish,” Chica added with a sigh.  
  
“They put you in Spanish?” Bonnie blinked, looking at Chica in amusement. Chica already spoke Spanish, seeing as that was the language everyone in her house spoke. “Well, at least it’s an easy A,” he offered.  
  
“I took foreign language in, like, freshman year,” Foxy snorted, stretching his arms above his head.  
  
“Same,” Goldie and Freddy chorused with a shared chuckle. It always creeped Bonnie out when they did that but at the same time it was so cool. Like twin telepathy or something.  
  
“Junior year,” Bonnie dismissed with a shrug of his own, throwing Chica a grin.  
  
“Well none of you have been bilingual your entire lives,” Chica shot back with a frown. “I didn’t know I needed to take a class to graduate. I don’t even need this class, I already speak two languages!”  
  
“The school can be stupid,” Goldie agreed with a shrug. He paused as the teacher came in. “Mr. Fitzgerald!” he called in greeting, prompting Bonnie to turn to the door.  
  
The music director, Jeremy Fitzgerald, was a strange man in Bonnie’s opinion, but he was fun to be around and was one of the best musicians Bonnie had ever met. He could play pretty much any instrument and even hit a high C on the trumpet, though his face would turn an amusing shade of red when he did so. With strawberry-blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail and falling down his back partnered with lithe frame and soft angles, Bonnie had thought he was a woman when he first met him. What a surprise _that_ had been.  
  
Mr. Fitzgerald gave them a kind smile. “Hello, boys,” he greeted, walking over to the wooden shelves where instruments were stored. Bonnie’s eyes followed him, noticing two guitar cases sitting there innocently. It looked like whoever had left them had been in a rush; one of the cases was partially open, showing a hint of rich cherry red. “How are you this morning?” he asked as he zipped the slightly-open case shut and proceeded to pick both guitars up, heading to his office. This made Bonnie very curious; most people would just leave them on the shelves, after all.  
  
“We’re fine,” Goldie answered, giving the director a grin. “A bit annoyed with the school, though. They put us in fourth period art instead of theory.”  
  
“That’s because the theory class was cancelled,” Mr. Fitzgerald informed them, closing his office and heading to the front board. Other people had begun trickling in finally. “And you all already took all of the other music classes. That was the only elective they could think of that you don’t need an audition for.”  
  
“I was in cooking,” Chica deadpanned. “I got moved to cooking second period on Mondays and Wednesdays. An _alternating_ period. How can we cook _anything_ in fifty minutes?”  
  
“Well, that one I can’t say,” Mr. Fitzgerald laughed, shaking his head. “Sorry. But it’ll be fine, don’t worry.”  
  
“Hey, Mr. Fitzgerald, can I ask you something?” Bonnie ventured casually, glancing in the direction of the director’s office.  
  
“Shoot.”  
  
“Whose guitars were those that’cha put in your office?”  
  
Mr. Fitzgerald paused and looked at Bonnie, a small, thoughtful frown on his lips. “It’s for a… class, I suppose you could say. It’s more like tutoring. Two of the students play guitar and came with their friends to me near the end of their freshman year asking me to help them, but they couldn’t take this class due to, hm… scheduling issues.”  
  
That was a strange response. It didn’t sound very honest, either, but Bonnie dismissed it in favour of turning back to his friends. What did it matter? It wasn’t like it affected him in any way at all.

* * *

The purple rabbit sauntered into the science room and immediately claimed one of the desks next to the door, dropping down into it. Foxy slid into the seat next to him, tapping his finger against the desk impatiently as they turned around to face the twins behind them.  
  
Bonnie’s ear perked as he heard a triumphant, “Chii was right, you do write like a girl.” His eye twitched in annoyance; one of the biggest problems with being a rabbit was with his excellent hearing he could hear every conversation in the classroom. And when the group of friends across the room started laughing he could hear it as clearly as he could hear Goldie talking about what had happened in gym class.  
  
“What?” he heard from across the room, but after that he forcefully tuned them out, focusing his attention on his friends.  
  
“-nd the teacher didn’t even care that a kid started having an asthma attack?” Goldie asked incredulously, shaking his head. “Like geez, poor kid could’ve died.”  
  
“Well, at least his friend was willing to just walk out with him, a good friend to have,” Freddy hummed a bit, looking quizzically at the board. “I wonder what goes on in this class.”  
  
“Who knows,” Bonnie shrugged, glancing over his shoulder towards the board. “This definitely isn’t chemistry.”  
  
“Looks like chemistry will be part of it, though,” Chica observed from her seat on Bonnie’s other side, her eyes trailing over to the lab stations. Bonnie followed her gaze to the beakers sitting there. He frowned.  
  
“Yeah. So who’s gonna be whose partner this year?” Bonnie asked, looking at Freddy. Of course they all knew Freddy and Goldie would partner up- they were very close- but Freddy was their unofficial leader so his advice was always valued.  
  
“Whoever you want,” Freddy answered simply, shrugging. “It’s not like I’ll be choosin’, ya know.”  
  
“I call dibs on Freddy,” Goldie piped up jokingly and they laughed, knowing all along that Goldie would be partnered with his brother. “But hey, looks like the other people in class are… uh… people none of us get along with… huh.” Bonnie almost snickered at Goldie’s thoughtful expression.  
  
“Alright, then, settle down class,” an accented voice interrupted and Bonnie turned around, looking at their teacher. The green hair barely registered with him. Humans had been dyeing their hair crazy colours for years now, it was nothing new. When the class was settled, the man continued with, “I am Doctor Mike Schmidt and this year I am your science teacher.”  
  
Bonnie nodded slightly with the rest of the class, keeping his eyes trained on the doctor.  
  
“This year,” Doctor Schmidt continued, “things will be different. In the past I know you have always been allowed to choose your own partners, but in my experience I’ve found there is a lot less messing around and procrastination when partners are assigned.”  
  
Immediately Bonnie frowned and exchanged a look with Foxy. _Assigning partners? Geez, the likelihood any of us will be together… damn_.  
  
“So this year, I will be assigning your partners.”  
  
Of course they had all already figured that out. He glanced over at Foxy again with a frown. Beyond Foxy he could see Alfred Fischbach reach forward to touch “Springtrap” on the shoulder, prompting the rabbit (he looked panicked, Bonnie noticed) to turn around. Apparently the rabbit wasn’t happy about this either.  
  
No one was.  
  
“I have already assigned everyone their partners and you cannot switch out partners. I have partnered everyone up for specific reasons, and this is the partner you will have all year long. You will sit beside each other in the classroom, when we are in the lab you will work together at your station, and you will be expected to work outside of the classroom as well. Basically, your lab partner in this class will be the person every assignment in this class, minus your exams, will be done with. Whether you call each other or meet up in person is up to you.”  
  
Bonnie had a sudden feeling of dread. Foxy shifted next to him and they watched the doctor pick up a clipboard, making a few notes. After a few moments, he commanded them to gather their belongings and head to the back. As they moved, he continued, “You can choose your own seats, but you must be sitting next to your partner.”  
  
_Well obviously_ , Bonnie huffed silently to himself as he settled against one of the lab stations in the back of the room with Freddy on his right and Chica on his left. They watched, boredly, as the eccentric doctor paced the front of the classroom, staring at his clipboard with a small frown. Then he abruptly stopped and looked over at them.  
  
“Alright now,” he hummed, a large smile on his face. “First, Bonito Rodriguez and Bonnie Henderson.”  
  
_Of. Fucking. Course._  
  
Bonnie’s crimson eyes slid over towards the blue rabbit, scowling at him. The rabbit’s green eyes glared back and Bonnie moved towards the pair of desks closest to the door. He left the desk next to the door for the blue rabbit, dropping down into the seat Foxy had been occupying earlier. Rodriguez dropped his bag down next to the desk to his right before slipping into his seat and leaning his head on his hand.  
  
“Marion Marshal and Malesha Jacks.” They were two people Bonnie didn’t know, but something about it apparently got Rodriquez’s attention as he abruptly pulled a pencil out of his bag and began twirling it nervously. Bonnie rolled his eyes. “Freddy Fazbear and Alfred Fischbach.” _Damn, poor Freddy. He’s in the same boat as me._ He looked over his shoulder to see Freddy sit down two seats behind himself, a small frown in place, and the smaller bear slip into his own seat, his face typically expressionless but for a small crease in his brow that gave away his displeasure.  
  
“Vivien Blanc and Drew Jones.” _Foxy too? Damn, is this man plotting against all of us_? His ears twitched as a low growl sounded, but neither fox spoke up as they approached the desks to the left of the empty row behind him and Rodriguez. “Leah Stuart and Jackie James.”  
  
Next to him, the blue rabbit dropped his head against his desk and Bonnie could just barely hear a low, frustrated growl in his throat. That seemed… uncharacteristic. Admittedly, Bonnie didn’t know anything about Rodriguez, but the blue rabbit had a reputation for being hyper-actively optimistic and this did not seem to fit that bill.  
  
“Frederick Fazbear and Spring Salvage.”  
  
P _oor Goldie. So all of us got stuck with this shit_. He looked over at Goldie as the golden bear dropped down into the seat behind him. The golden rabbit seemed much more hesitant as he sat down, refusing to look at either Goldie or Bonnie. That didn’t bother Bonnie one bit.  
  
Despite the fact that only two people remained, Dr. Schmidt still said, “Francisca Sanchez and Charlotte Kain.” The two girls were already taking their seats next to Bonnie’s.  
  
Bonnie didn’t pay much attention to the blue rabbit as he sat up and turned around to look at his friend, instead choosing to lean over and whisper  _this blows_ to Chica. He straightened up when Dr. Schmidt looked up from his clipboard and said, “Mr. Rodriguez, turn around please.” As the blue rabbit obeyed, he began fidgeting again. _Annoying as hell_. “Now, I know all of you know each other,” Bonnie heard a snort from behind him and had to resist his own dry laugh, “but this is my first year at this school and I don’t know any of you. So, I want all of you to fill out this questionnaire about your partner, which you will then read aloud to the class.”  
  
The violet rabbit frowned but took the small stack of three papers, handing it over his shoulder to Goldie. It was a simple, to-the-point questionnaire and he knew literally only _one_ answer. And that was his partner’s name.  
  
_My New Lab Partner!_  
  
_Name:_  
_Nickname(s):_  
_DOB:_  
_Places You’ve Lived:_  
_Future Plans:_  
_Interests/Hobbies:_  
_Favourite Colour:_  
_Favourite Band/Musician:_  
_Phone #_  
_Cell:_  
_Landline:_  
  
Automatically he began to write “Bonito” and got through “Rodri” before he realized he didn’t even know how to spell the other rabbit’s name. He frowned down at his paper, his pride telling he to not ask his partner how to spell the name; he was perfectly aware it was a common name but he wasn’t exactly good at spelling in the _first_ place. And, well, he took German, not Spanish.  
  
The other rabbit seemed to notice, however, as he glanced at the page and rolled his eyes. He spelled out, “G-U-E-Z.” Bonnie glared slightly before finishing his name. “And nickname is Blue,” the rabbit muttered. “Without an “e” at the end.”  
  
So his nickname was Blu. _Stupid_. “I don’t have a nickname,” he stated matter-of-factly. Feeling a bit vindictive, Bonnie wrote down “Blue” on his page, purposefully spelling it like the colour. He glanced at the next line. “July thirty-first, ‘98,” he added.  
  
“February twelfth, ‘99,” Rodriguez muttered, irritation slipping into his voice.  
  
Bonnie looked at the rabbit, frowning slightly. Most people with birthdays _that_ late started school late. “Started school early?” he questioned, raising a brow. He was honestly curious but the small scowl the rabbit sent his way told him that it wasn’t received that way.  _Perfectly fine with me, jackass._ “Most birthdays that late start school late,” he decided to explain. The rabbit was probably too stupid to understand the concept anyway.  
  
Just ignore the fact that they were in an _advanced_ science course.  
  
“Yeah, well, my family isn’t your typical family,” the blue rabbit said between clenched teeth, his hand tightening suddenly around his pen. Bonnie watched, brow furrowed, as Rodriguez’s eye twitched. It took him a moment to realize that it had been a wince.  
  
_Strange._  
  
“And the only other place I’ve lived in is Spain,” Rodriguez added, his hand twitching now.  
  
_Spain_. Well he knew the rabbit had Spanish heritage- close heritage, considering his first name was _Bonito_ \- but it hadn’t occurred to him that the rabbit might have lived in another country like Chica had. “Immigrant?” he questioned, wanting to see if Rodriguez had been born there like Chica had been born in Mexico.  
  
“No, my parents were. I was born here, we just moved back to Spain shortly after.” He frowned at the blue rabbit as he tapped his pen against the paper. _That is getting seriously annoying._  
  
He turned to his own paper and began writing _Spain_ down. As he did, he shot a sneer at Rodriguez and said, “Dunno why you came back. And I was born in Brooklyn.” Bonnie was almost surprised when Rodriguez sneered right back.  
  
“Dunno why you came here,” he mocked, throwing Bonnie’s own words back at him. Bonnie scowled and glared at the other rabbit who just smirked triumphantly.  _Oh you little bitch._ Bonnie’s comeback wasn’t that great, but he growled out the first thing that came to mind when he saw that smirk.  
  
“You’re a bitch, aren’t you?”  
  
The reaction was instant; Rodriguez’s smirk slid off of his face and his gaze went blank, staring slightly wide-eyed at Bonnie. This… honestly surprised the rabbit. It was such a common insult, there was no way one of the most disliked students in school hadn’t been called that before.  
  
Then Bonnie realized the rabbit was rigid and completely still as if frozen in place, that the rabbit had stopped breathing completely, and he realized that the look in Rodriguez’s eyes wasn’t vacant or blank, it was distant… distant and _scared_. Scared of _him_? Bonnie didn’t understand- what connotations could the younger rabbit have with those words that caused him to react like _that_? Bonnie opened his mouth to say something, but then the rabbit seemed to come to his senses.  
  
Abruptly, before he could say anything Rodriguez turned back to his paper. His eyes were still wide and his hand was trembling slightly, gripping his pen much too tightly as he wrote down _Brooklyn_. “Future plans.” His tone was flat and void of pretty much any emotion, and honestly Bonnie actually felt a little… _worried_.  
  
Furrowing his brow, he began, “Hey, are you-”  
  
“ _Future. Plans_.” And the emotion was back, but it wasn’t annoyance like it was before. This was anger, this was hatred, this was… _fear_? Bonnie stared at the blue rabbit.  
  
Yes. The rabbit was scared. His ears were down, his hand was trembling, he was staring blankly down at his paper- and Bonnie wasn’t sure if the smaller rabbit noticed, but one of his hands had curled up closer to his chest, his shoulders were slightly hunched as though he was trying to hide inside himself. It was something he had never expected from the extremely, annoyingly optimistic, bouncey rabbit.  
  
He had been talking, rather shortly and in fragments, to this rabbit for all of five minutes and already he was beginning to suspect that Bonito Rodriguez was hiding something. And right then, Bonnie was starting to suspect that that _something_ was something dangerous. Not to Bonnie or anyone around him but to Rodriguez himself.  
  
Realizing that there was a tense silence- how long had he just been staring at the rabbit?- he finally answered, “Music academy in California.”  
  
Not that that would surprise anyone. It was pretty common knowledge that he was attending the same school as the Fazbear twins.  
  
“Undecided,” the blue rabbit said, voice devoid of emotion again. It didn’t fit the rabbit and it just added to his sense of _wrong wrong wrong_. “Cooking and playing guitar.”  
  
_Guitar_. That stuck out to him. He hadn’t been expecting that. He noted down the answers silently. “Red. And Jonathan Graham.”  
  
“Yellow, Jan J,” Rodriguez stated flatly and Bonnie quirked a brow. Jan J? They weren’t exactly a _positive_ band, that much he knew from Goldie’s ramblings. Always talking about how society fails the majority, how life isn’t alright, how nothing is as it seems.  
  
_Huh. Maybe there is some truth to those lyrics after all_. Things were not adding up here with the other rabbit separated from his friends like this. People don’t just do a 180 and then do another 180 and find themselves turned into a _completely different circle_ with different angles. This wasn’t the annoyingly optimistic Rodriguez nor the annoyingly snarky Rodriguez. This was someone- something- _whatever_ \- that Bonnie had never actually seen before. He wondered which one was the real him.  
  
Of course it wasn’t like he ever actually _knew_ the rabbit. His first interaction with the other had been to sneer at him, actually. So who was he to say just who the hell Bonito Rodriguez was? For all he knew, none of these were him.  
  
But that still brought up the question of _why_ he acted the way he did if it wasn’t real.  
  
Suddenly, a human hand entered his line of vision and tapped on the paper on his desk, interrupting his musings. Bonnie looked at Dr. Schmidt with a slight frown. “Trust me, you’ll want to exchange those, I’m infamous for changing due dates,” he told them with a wry smile before moving onto the golden duo behind them. The rabbit glanced down and realized the next line was the phone number.  
  
Bonnie frowned more and huffed before saying, “346-9807.”  
  
“346-3427,” was the reply he got and Bonnie noted the number down, frowning at the sheet in thought. From the corner of his eye he saw Rodriguez drop his pen and turn away, staring intensely at the door.  
  
Yellow? That fit with the Rodriguez he saw from a distance that morning. Jan J? That fit with the Rodriguez he was seeing now. Guitar? Well… any kind of person could play guitar so that didn’t say much. Cooking? That also seemed to fit the Rodriguez that was with his friends. Nothing here fit that bitter, snarky, mean Rodriguez that he had first spoken to, though. Sure, it was probably because Rodriguez didn’t _like_ Bonnie and was pissed about being separated from his friends, but it didn’t seem... _right_.  
  
_Just stop it, Bonnie, you’re overthinking things again_ , he scoffed to himself, giving the blue rabbit a strange, unhappy look. Something still felt _wrong, wrong, wrong_. _He’s probably just messing with your head. He’s one of Fischbach’s freaks, after all_. However, for some reason that he couldn’t explain, Bonnie still found himself erasing the “e” in “Blue.”  
  
He couldn’t forget that abject look of horror he had somehow put in Rodriguez’s eyes.

* * *

_My New Lab Partner!_

  
_Name_ : Bonito Rodriguez  
_Nickname(s)_ : Blu  
_DOB_ : 2/12/99  
_Places You’ve Lived_ : Spain  
_Future Plans_ : Undecided  
_Interests/Hobbies_ : Cooking, playing guitar  
_Favourite Colour_ : Yellow  
_Favourite Band/Musician_ : Jan J  
_Phone #_  
     _Cell_ : 346-3427  
     _Landline_ :


	3. Beginning of a Long Year, Blu

_Beep beep beep beep beep…_  
  
He let out a pained groan as he turned over and slapped his hand down on the alarm, cutting the sound off. His green eyes stared up at the ceiling before he sat up, gritting his teeth against the pulling in his side. He was stiff and sore, but all in all everything seemed fine. Hesitantly, he pulled his shirt up to look at his side.  
  
The bandage was still mostly white. That was a good sign, at least; the gash was too shallow to do any real damage. He had worried he’d need to call Spring to take him to a hospital again, and convincing the doctors and nurses there that he had just been clumsy and landed on a glass bottle he’d dropped hadn’t been the easiest thing in the world the _first_ time. The second time had been _much_ harder.  
  
With a sigh, he climbed out of bed and went over to his closet. It was a small closet that barely fit all of his clothes and he frowned as he stared inside. There were a few old dresses that his mother had bought back when they were trying to convince him that he was a girl, and though admittedly Blu quite enjoyed playing with and wearing makeup he drew the line at dresses. They were so uncomfortable and they felt… _vulnerable_.  
  
Blu already felt _way_ too vulnerable as it was.  
  
So he pulled out a cheery, but baggy, green shirt that wouldn’t risk riding up and his bandage wouldn’t show through, and then grabbed a pair of jeans. It was early August and as much as he’d like to wear capris or even shorts, the bruises on his legs were visible even through his fur, they were so bad.  
  
He _hated_ when that happened.  
  
Dressing quickly, he threw his pajamas into his basket- he’d do laundry later, he made a mental note, he was getting low on clean clothes- and grabbed his bookbag and slid his guitar case out from under his bed. He picked it up and went over to his window, opening it and setting the guitar outside. With a glance back at the door- he could hear footsteps in the hallway- he slid out of the window and carefully closed it again, picked his guitar up, and hurried down the fire escape stairs.  
  
Alfred had helped him set something up at the bottom to make bringing his guitar easier… and make it easier when he was in no shape to climb a ladder. When he reached the bottom of the fire escape, standing above the ladder, he sat down on the edge and lowered his guitar onto a wooden landing next to the fire escape, supported by an old, unused dumpster. Once the guitar was safe, he slipped off of the fire escape and landed on the wooden surface, hissing as his leg protested the action. He picked his guitar back up and hopped down the makeshift stairs they had spent twenty minutes making and securing, then he ran out of the alley.  
  
The sun had finally started to rise at just past 6:20 AM. Hitching the guitar up on his shoulder, he hurried through the bad neighborhood he lived in and made a beeline to the middle-class neighborhood his only female friend lived in. When he approached her house, he saw Alfred and Mangle were both already there and waiting.  
  
“Spring arrived yet?” he asked as he approached them, stuffing his hands in his pockets.  
  
“Not yet,” Chii answered, shaking her head. “He texted us, though, Plushie’s ride is late.”  
  
“Ah,” he nodded in understanding, frowning as he dropped down onto the stoop next to Mangle. “Everything alright?”  
  
“He sent us a recording of Plushie’s reaction to Jan J’s signed CD,” Mangle chuckled, glancing over at him. “He was really excited. You should check your phone, he sent it through our Whatsapp group.”  
  
“Ah, a little joy,” Blu laughed, pulling his phone out. He did, in fact, have a video message from Spring in their group chat. “This is perfect to brighten my day! Plushie’s so cute~”  
  
“Ain’t he just?” Chii giggled, kneeling down to look over his shoulder at the excited kit. “Of course, I think if I had a CD signed by Jan J I’d be ecstatic.”  
  
“You’d be in love,” Mangle snorted, eying the screen. “Of course, I think I would be too.”  
  
Blu laughed happily as the video cut off with Spring’s yelp, the little bunny brother having leapt suddenly at him in joy. “Aren’t they just so lucky to have siblings?” he asked with a soft sigh. “Can you imagine having a brother or sister?”  
  
There was a short silence between all of them as they _really_ thought about that, Blu’s ears drooping immediately. Alfred was the one who broke the silence. “I would be afraid.”  
  
“Yeah…” Mangle trailed, nervously scratching at their shoulder.  
  
“Yeah, you’re right,” Blu sighed, forlornly this time. The image of little Plushie next to his parents sent a spike of fear through him; there was no way he could wish he had a sibling, not with the way he grew up. Plushie had it hard enough with an older brother playing the part of daddy, after all, no kid needed abusive drunks for parents. Besides... Plushie already had enough problems.  
  
Even through the excitement of the video there was a tiredness about both golden rabbits. Clearly last night hadn’t been easy.  
  
“But at least they love each other, huh?” he finally concluded, giving a simple response of “adorable!” and adding a smiley-face in the chat.  
  
“Yeah,” Chii agreed, her voice sad. However, an approaching vehicle made them look up, and Blu grinned as he spotted Spring’s silver-grey chevy pulling into the driveway.  
  
“Awesome, Spring’s here!” He hopped to his feet and headed over to the car. Spring popped the trunk and Blu rounded back there, setting his guitar inside right next to Spring’s. Closing the trunk, he hopped over to the backseat and slid in right behind Spring, Mangle sitting between him and Alfred and Chii sitting up front with Spring.  
  
“Sorry about that, guys,” Spring apologized, glancing at the clock. It was just past 6:30. Usually they’d be arriving by now, where they basically had the school to themselves until buses started arriving at 7:15, at which point they would vacate the music room and bid the music teacher a good day. “Mrs. Marks was a bit late. Apparently her grandson had a bit of an accident and she needed to take care of him before coming to get Plushie.”  
  
Blu smiled; Mrs. Marks was a nice old woman who was excellent with children. She was the former nanny to Spring and Spring’s sister and had been the one to encourage them all becoming friends, and now she had a grandson around the same age as Plushie who attended a private school a few cities over. She had suggested Plushie attend there, too, when kindergarten… turned out very poorly for the kit. Spring had to pull some strings, but he had managed to get it arranged.  
  
It wouldn’t be easy, though; Spring was Plushie’s emergency contact. If something happened during school, Spring would have to leave early…  
  
Pushing the thoughts from his mind, he said, “That’s fine! By the way, totally adorable about the Jan J thing!”  
  
The rabbit in front of him laughed as he pulled out of the driveway, and then they were off to the highschool.  
  
Blu listened to the disc Spring currently had in his stereo- it was, surprisingly, not Jan J but a country disc. Blu didn’t mind that, though; he liked any song with feeling and meaning, even if the style wasn’t much to his tastes. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the window, letting himself feel at ease amongst his friends.  
  
When they arrived, it wasn’t yet 6:40. They’d still have about thirty minutes in the music room with the director and Blu even still had time to bounce to the restroom and put on his mascara before anyone else arrived. That was good; Blu liked learning more about his instrument without being surrounded by those… those…  
  
_Whatever._

* * *

Blu hummed quietly to himself. They were sitting in their third period class, right before lunch. It had been rather… strange, to say the least, to walk into a classroom with only sixteen desks which seemed to be separated into pairs, with the desks shoved together and forcing people into close proximity, but it wasn’t that uncommon. There were eight lab stations at the very back of the room, which was very large. He didn’t know _why_ it was so large, but the words on the whiteboard proclaimed this to be Advanced Senior Science. _What does that even mean?_  
  
Bored, he decided to stir up some trouble. Turning to Spring next to him, he said, “Hey, Spring, can I see your math sheet real quick?” Summer math sucked but they had completed it weeks before, working together on it at Spring's house.  
  
The golden rabbit gave him a strange look, looking perplexed. “Huh?” he questioned confusedly. “Blu, we worked on that together, we have the same exact answers already.”  
  
“I know, but I want to see something!” he explained with a pleading smile. Across the room the door opened, but he ignored whoever it was coming in. He had no more interest in them than they had in him… which was, frankly, none at all.  
  
Spring raised a brow at him but he unzipped his bag and pulled the desired worksheet out of its notebook, handing it over to him. Blu happily took the sheet from him and made a show of studying the slanted, curling numbers and letters closely, pretending not to notice the look his friends gave each other.  
  
He hummed a bit in thought before declaring with finality, “Chii was right, you do write like a girl.” He handed the page back with a grin, watching as his friends processed the words and began laughing. _Success, they're all happy._  
  
“What?” Spring asked through his laughter, his green eyes flicking to the math sheet in confusion. Then he gave Blu a small grin. “C’mon, Blu,” he started, “you should know better than to stereotype genders. I mean, just look at you and me.” Blu snorted at that; it was true, neither he nor Spring looked very, uh, _masculine_. In fact, they both had long, thick eyelashes and softer features than the other guys at their school. And that wasn’t even _mentioning_ their physiques. There _was_ a reason his parents used to treat him like a daughter instead.  
  
Chii nudged him lightly with a small titter, getting his attention. “He has a point,” she said. “How many times have you been mistaken for a girl since, what, middle school?”  
  
The friends all began laughing more and Blu grinned. “Aw, shucks, guys, I know I’m fabulous but ya don’t gotta rub it in~” he sang teasingly to them. He watched as theykept laughing. “Anyway,” he continued once they had quieted enough. He glanced up at the whiteboard, giving them a quizzical look. “Advanced senior science, yeah? What does that even mean?”  
  
“I think it’s lab-based,” Mangle told him with a slight shrug, looking up at the whiteboard as well. “I glanced through the textbook on the way in, there’s a lot of different sciences in it. I saw physics, biology, and chemistry in my little… um, glance.”  
  
“You saw a lot of stuff for it being a glance,” Spring pointed out with a snort, shaking his head slightly and sliding his worksheet back into his bag. He then gave the fox a strange glance, raising a brow. “When’d you even do that? Weren’t you right behind us in the door?”  
  
Mangle looked at Spring, unimpressed, and deadpanned, “It’s called I paused, Springy.” Blu laughed with Alfred and Chii at the obvious answer. Spring rolled his eyes in mock agitation.  
  
“Well, duh,” he snorted, “I was just-”  
  
“Alright, then, settle down class.” It was an unfamiliar but bright sounding voice and Blu turned his attention to the human who had just entered the room. He was tall- at least six feet tall- with bright blue eyes and… brown hair dyed green. Blu grinned; he liked this man already.  
  
The class quieted down and gave their teacher the respect and attention he deserved. Once all was quiet, he continued with, “I am Doctor Mike Schmidt and this year I am your science teacher.” Blu resisted the urge to say _well duh_.  
  
He glanced over at Spring and noticed him frowning over his shoulder, so he turned his head slightly to look at the classroom behind and to their right. Immediately he identified the problem, a sharp frown tugging at his own lips as he spotted the group of popular students.  
  
Everyone called them the “Fazcrew” for some reason and it sounded absolutely ridiculous to Blu, but he didn’t care enough to say anything about it. He had been indifferent towards them up until freshman year when he had accidentally run into the other rabbit and saw him roll his eyes at his apology and just keep walking without saying anything. And the first time he noticed the golden bear sneer at them? _Yeah_. So they had all mutually decided that they would return the feelings and gestures… which only made things worse between all of them, but none of them really cared. It wasn’t like the Fazcrew meant anything to them, after all.  
  
He turned his attention back towards the teacher, frowning. Blu glanced over at Spring just in time to see the golden rabbit turn his frustrated gaze to him. He simply shrugged at his friend despite feeling the same irritation. This wouldn’t be the only class they had with that group, after all; they had their morning gym class with them too, and they hadn’t yet gotten to their elective or afternoon classes. Hopefully they’d have a different elective and considering Blu knew for a _fact_ the Fazcrew _always_ chose music, he was pretty damn sure they wouldn’t be in their art class.  
  
Unless they had more than one elective... _Damn_.  
  
“This year,” Dr. Schmidt continued, “things will be different. In the past I know you have always been allowed to choose your own partners, but in my experience I’ve found there is a lot less messing around and procrastination when partners are assigned.”  
  
Blu felt his heart suddenly drop. _Oh my god no. No, don’t._  
  
“So this year, I will be assigning your partners.”  
  
And there it was. He turned his attention to Spring, biting his lower lip in concern. From the expression on the rabbit’s face- wide eyes, small frown- he was starting to panic already. The golden rabbit noticed him, though, and gave him a forced smile. It didn’t convince Blu. He looked at Alfred, behind Spring, for help.  
  
Alfred, noticing Blu’s pleading look, reached forward and touched Spring’s shoulder, causing the rabbit to jump and turn around to look at the bear. Blu couldn’t see his expression but Alfred’s worried frown told him everything he needed to know.  
  
“I have already assigned everyone their partners and you cannot switch out partners. I have partnered everyone up for specific reasons, and this is the partner you will have all year long."  _Reasons, please? Explain them? No?_ "You will sit beside each other in the classroom, when we are in the lab you will work together at your station, and you will be expected to work outside of the classroom as well. Basically, your lab partner in this class will be the person every assignment in this class, minus your exams, will be done with. Whether you call each other or meet up in person is up to you.”  
  
Blu frowned as he looked back at the teacher. This wasn’t sounding good at all. What if Spring was partnered with someone who didn’t know him? What if Mangle was partnered with someone who wouldn’t respect their preferences? What if Chii got stuck with a self-righteous prick? What if Alfred ended up with someone who was too nosy for their own good?  
  
What if… he himself got put together with someone who spoke Spanish? What if he was with someone who touched too much, who wouldn’t hesitate to grab at his shoulder, who might end up discovering the bandages? His hand twitched to his side, feeling almost sick at the thought. _No, think positive. You’ll be with Spring, no doubt! Or maybe Alfred. They’re both really careful and-_  
  
“Alright. Gather your stuff, everyone,” Dr. Schmidt’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “And stand back near the lab stations. You can choose your own seats, but you must be sitting next to your partner.”  
  
Blu grabbed his bag and stood up, looking worriedly at his friends. When they had made it to the back, between the desks and lab stations, he turned around so that he was in front of Spring. He fidgeted with the strap of his bag. _Positive, Blu, positive. You’ll definitely get one of them._  
  
“Alright now,” Dr. Schmidt hummed, turning to face them with his clipboard in front of him. “First, Bonito Rodriguez and Bonnie Henderson.”  
  
Hardly even noticing the soft hiss that escaped his lips, Blu shot a dark look at the violet rabbit who, he found, was returning it completely and one-hundred percent. The rabbit headed towards the desks next to the door and Blu had no choice but to follow, noting in irritation that he was left with the desk on the wall’s side. Not that he minded that but that meant he’d be separated from his friends. He dropped the bag down and slid into his seat, leaning on his hand and pointedly ignoring Henderson.  
  
“Marion Marshal and Malesha Jacks.”  
  
His heart sunk more; that was literally the _only_ other person Spring knew outside of their group. Quickly pulling his pen out, he began fidgeting and staring at it, twirling it in his fingers and listening as more names were called out. He didn’t look at any of them.  
  
“Freddy Fazbear and Alfred Fischbach.”  
  
_What do you know_. He heard them take the seats two rows behind them. He hoped it was Alfred in his line. He was sure it was.  
  
“Vivien Blanc and Drew Jones.”  
  
Blu almost let his head fall against the desk as the two foxes, growling slightly, went to their desks. Not only were they stuck with someone they hated but there was, what, a one out of five chance that Spring would end up with Chii?  
  
“Leah Stuart and Jackie James.”  
  
This time he did let his head fall against his desk, doing his best to smother a frustrated shriek. Now Spring could end up with either their friend or, higher probability, one of their enemies. _Wonderful._ He had a bad feeling he already knew how this would end.  
  
“Frederick Fazbear and Spring Salvage.”  
  
_Yep. Called it._ His ears drooped, noting with some happiness that the pair had taken the seats directly behind them.  
  
“Francisca Sanchez and Charlotte Kain.”  
  
Once the chickens were seated, Blu sat up and turned around in his seat to look at Spring, his ears twitching only slightly as he frowned and drew his brows together. Spring, understanding what he was asking, forced a smile, but it fell short; his ears were laying flat and there was a slight, hardly-noticeable tremble in his hands.  
  
“Mr. Rodriguez, turn around please,” Dr. Schmidt called and Blu frowned before doing as he was told. Immediately he began fidgeting with his pen again, training his eyes on the doctor. “Now, I know all of you know each other-” he heard a snort from behind and to the left of him, “-but this is my first year at this school and I don’t know any of you. So, I want all of you to fill out this questionnaire about your partner, which you will then read aloud to the class.”  
  
Blu’s frown deepened at this but he took the three questionnaire sheets he was handed and glanced at them. They looked typical enough. He passed one back to Spring but didn’t dare stay turned around longer than necessary- getting scolded twice about the same thing in the span of two minutes was pushing it.  
  
So with a meaningful look to Alfred, the blue rabbit turned his attention back to the worksheet, taking a more careful look at it.  
  
_My New Lab Partner!_  
  
_Name:_  
 _Nickname(s):_  
 _DOB:_  
 _Places You’ve Lived:_  
 _Future Plans:_  
 _Interests/Hobbies:_  
 _Favourite Colour:_  
 _Favourite Band/Musician:_  
 _Phone #_  
 _Cell:_  
 _Landline:_  
  
There was no way in hell he was giving Bonnie Henderson his landline number, but he figured he’d have no choice but to give him the cell number. It wasn’t like they would actually use it, anyway, unless they couldn’t arrange something during school hours.  
  
_Hopefully that’ll never happen, but just in case…_  
  
Blu sighed and wrote down the name Bonnie Henderson before glancing boredly at his partner. The purple rabbit was frowning and Blu noticed he had gotten Bonito Rodri down before pausing. He rolled his eyes.  
  
“G-U-E-Z,” he spelled out for the purple rabbit who shot him a slight glare before filling in the rest. It was such a common name that Blu didn’t know how anyone could _not_ know how to spell it. “And nickname is Blu. Without an “e” at the end,” he added in a mutter.  
  
“I don’t have a nickname,” the rabbit stated flatly, writing his answer down. Blu simply scratched through the line. “July thirty-first, ‘98.”  
  
“February twelfth, 1999,” he muttered, feeling only a little irritated that the rabbit was almost a full year older than him.  
  
“Started school early?” the purple rabbit questioned, raising a brow. Blu quickly determined it was more mocking than curious. “Most birthdays that late start school late.”  
  
“Yeah, well, my family isn’t your typical family,” he bit back, his grip tightening on his pen because the rabbit had _no_ idea. The wound on his side pulsed with pain as he thought about it and he just barely managed to keep from wincing and reaching for it. “And the only other place I’ve lived in is Spain.”  
  
“Immigrant?”  
  
“No, my parents were. I was born here, we just moved back to Spain shortly after,” he grumbled, tapping his pen against the paper. He didn’t like thinking about it, the reason they left Spain to return to America again. He had been barely four years old but he could still remember that explosive fight...  
  
“Dunno why you came back,” Bonnie sneered, writing the info down. “And I was born in Brooklyn.”  
  
Now it was Blu’s turn to sneer. “Dunno why you came here,” he mocked. The look Bonnie gave him was murderous and he simply smirked right back.  
  
“You’re a bitch, aren’t you?” Bonnie growled. It was a common insult for anybody and normally it would mean nothing to someone as self-confident as Blu _pretended_ to be.  
  
Those words, however, brought last night to the forefront of Blu’s mind- the feeling of hands holding him against the wall as untrimmed nails dug into his side, the woman shrieking obscenities at him and one phrase he heard all of the time echoing around; _you little bitch. You’re a bitch. Little bitch should never have been born. Just a mistake. Little bitch needs to pay for it. Bitch._ The pain in his side flared up again as he remembered how his mother’s long, sharp claws dug into him, how she had scratched him down to his hip, how her claws scraped against his shoulder and almost his neck, the memory of being thrown down onto the ground and landing on the remains of a broken bottle of Corona, filthy glass digging into the skin on his hip and his thigh, trying to catch himself before he could hit his head...  
  
He tried not to dwell on it, tried not to let the rabbit see how badly that it affected him, but he realized he had stopped breathing and was just staring silently at the rabbit, completely still. The rabbit in front of him looked confused and opened his mouth, but Blu didn’t give him a chance to say any more. Abruptly, he turned back to his paper, gripping his pen too tightly as he wrote down _Brooklyn_ mechanically. “Future plans.”  
  
“Hey, are you-”  
  
“ _Future_. _Plans_.” He tried so hard to keep his hand from trembling. He wasn’t angry at the words… okay, maybe he was- what did _Bonnie Henderson_ know about _him_? How _dare_ he think he knew Blu well enough to make that decision!- but more than that he was… scared. It was like being slapped in the face, this _stranger_ ’ _s_ words echoing the words his mother and father often shouted at Blu and at each other. They were words he’d been hearing since Spain- probably since before. Words that always preceded hard hands and sharp claws. They were words he didn’t like, that foretold pain. They were the warning words to hide.  
  
Apparently the purple rabbit realized he had touched a nerve. Blu didn’t know what expression he was wearing as he finally answered, “Music academy in California.”  
  
Yeah, he’d already known that. Everybody did by this time. “Undecided,” he chose to say, even though he had already decided on a school a few hours away. He wanted to do music but he refused to make the same mistakes his father made. “Cooking and playing guitar.”  
  
Still he couldn’t see the rabbit’s expression but he could hear the pencil against the paper. “Music and videogames,” the other rabbit finally said. Blu noticed his answers were as short as his own. Probably in response to his short answers, of course. “Red. And Jonathan Graham.”  
  
He noted the colour and artist down and said the first things that game to his mind; “Yellow, Jan J.” But Jan J _wasn’t_ his favourite. Jan J was among his favourites, but not his favourite. His favourite wasn’t anywhere near as optimistic as Jan J was about the underdog’s position in life, but how could he even begin to tell someone else that peppy, cheery, always-bright Bonito “Blu” Rodriguez basically liked music saying nothing would ever get better and everyone was better off dead?  
  
Of course, he didn’t even think about the fact that Jan J wasn’t optimistic in any sense of the definition, at least not to anyone who wasn’t an underdog.  
  
Blu glanced at the final line. Phone number. _Geez, do I?_ Neither seemed willing to offer their numbers up. However, as Dr. Schmidt passed, he lightly tapped their pages. “Trust me, you’ll want to exchange those, I’m infamous for changing due dates,” he warned before moving on.  
  
Bonnie let out a huff. “346-9807,” he said simply.  
  
“346-3427,” Blu responded shortly, noting down the number he was now determined to never use. He dropped his pen down and turned his head away towards the door, staring out through the window into the hallway. He didn’t want anyone to see the crease in his brow that gave away his true emotions, he definitely didn’t want them to see that telltale shine in his eyes. He needed to get back to being the happy, peppy, cheery bunny everyone knew him as.  
  
He needed to be happy for his friends; if they couldn’t rely on him to brighten up their day then who could they turn to? Who could they depend on to always bring up the bright side, to show them not all was bad? When they were hurting or sad, who would make them smile? He needed to be strong, not for himself or for his nearly-nonexistent reputation.  
  
He needed to be strong for them.

* * *

 _My New Lab Partner!_  
  
_Name_ : Bonnie Henderson  
_Nickname(s)_ : -  
_DOB_ : July 31, 98  
_Places You’ve Lived_ : Brooklyn  
_Future Plans_ : California music academy  
_Interests/Hobbies_ : Music, videogames  
_Favourite Colour_ : Red  
_Favourite Band/Musician_ : Jonathan Graham  
_Phone #_  
_Cell:_ 346-9807  
_Landline:_


	4. Suspicions, Bonnie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so sorry about the wait really!

“Thank you for your cooperation, class. Remember, these review packets need to be done by class Wednesday. You can use the next five minutes to talk amongst yourselves but I ask you don’t leave your desks, please.”

His ears twitched and he glanced at the review (and reading!) packet sitting under his arm, frowning. It was a thick packet, full of articles and questions, but that was fine. He knew he could probably get it all finished that night, and it wasn’t something he had to work with Rodriguez on.

Speaking of Rodriguez... “Blu,” he heard the whisper. He glanced over as the blue rabbit twisted around in his seat to look at his gold-furred friend. Behind himself he could hear Goldie turned around, speaking to Freddy, but he focused on his “enemy” and friends’ conversation.

“Yeah, Spring?” His voice was quiet, as if attempting to maintain a _little_ privacy that he knew he couldn’t have, not with Bonnie sitting _right next_ to him.

“What’re you thinking?” Well _that_ was a weird question. Or was is philosophical? Bonnie didn’t know. “...Blu?”

“Huh?”

“Careful, you’re pulling a Mangle,” the golden rabbit laughed but Bonnie noticed there was no amusement in his voice or his smile. He sounded concerned. _Yeah, something’s going on here._

“Me, pull a Mangle?” Rodriguez started, leaning on Salvage’s desk. “Aw, c’mon, I’m not _that_ cool, you know~” _Strange thing to gloat about…_

“My mistake,” Salvage teased. “Mangle _does_ always beat you in the studio, anyway.”

Rodriguez gasped at those words. “I beg to differ!” _You sound fake as hell, Rodriguez._ “Mangle barely stays on tempo!”

 _Tempo_ ? _Wait, are they talking about a_ music _studio?_ He frowned at this; there was no way in hell Rodriguez and his friends were _musicians_ . He found it way too unbelievable; none of them “looked the part” and _certainly_ none of them had the voices for it.

Not that he’d ever actually heard any of them sing, but that was beside the point. This was Springtrap Salvage’s group, and everyone knew they were all talentless slackers. It was pretty well known all around the school… but they also seemed to have _some_ kind of influence, being able to pass every year despite having so much missed work.

“Mangle _marks_ the tempo, Blu,” the golden rabbit _giggled_ . Behind him, he noticed Freddy and Goldie’s talking had quieted. He wondered which one was wanting to hear the conversation. “They can’t be _off_ tempo when they _make_ the tempo.”

“Bonnie,” he heard Foxy say from his own desk diagonal from him. He lifted a hand, one finger raised, to indicate _one moment_ . He wanted to know what the hell was going on. If it was something... _bad_ , he couldn’t just _sit_ there. And innocent conversations like the one taking place would give much more insight than most people would believe.

“I disagree,” Fischbach stated simply, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. Bonnie couldn’t see his expression- he couldn’t even see Salvage- but he _sounded_ amused underneath that indifference.

“Oh shush, Mr. Vocals,” the rabbit snorted as Rodriguez giggled. “If I remember right _you_ were the one off tempo this morning.”

“Nope. _You_.”

“Me?” The rabbit sounded aghast, though it was clearly in good fun. His voice took on a mocking, formal tone as he continued with, “I’ll have you know, good sirs, I am _not_ at fault here. _Obviously_ the song was too slow to begin with.” Bonnie had a feeling that was an inside joke… and an insult. To the higher class? He wasn’t sure, but Salvage was not the one he was focusing on.

Rodriguez dissolved into a fit of giggles. “Oh my gods, Spring, _really_?”

When the golden rabbit spoke again, his voice was soft and almost inaudible. “I _am_ really sorry about that, by the way.” His voice became softer, so soft that Bonnie was almost sure they weren’t meant to hear it. Well... he _was_ sure they weren’t supposed to hear it. “I was out late and, you know... Last night wasn’t very... you know...”

He didn’t say it so Bonnie didn’t know, but clearly the rabbit’s friends did as Rodriguez simply nodded and said, “We know.” The bell rang, dismissing class, and Bonnie had hardly blinked before Rodriguez had leapt out of his seat, between the desk and the wall. “And then you get up at unholy o’clock,” he added teasingly as Bonnie stood up and turned to his friends. Goldie and Foxy were already standing; Goldie gave him a simple shrug.

“Hypocrite,” Fischbach accused as Freddy slipped out of the desk.

“I’ll have you know that I am a _proud_ hypocrite, thank you very much,” Rodriguez declared and Bonnie felt a little shocked; hadn’t he said nearly the exact same thing just that morning?

Bonnie caught Freddy’s blue gaze and Freddy shrugged, heading towards the door. Bonnie followed, but he could still hear the conversation behind him as Blanc joined their friends.

“This was the most horrible thing I have ever gone through,” Blanc sighed and Bonnie silently said to himself _then you’ve had a very easy life, Blanc._ “Please tell me we have something to look forw...!” Their voice faded as Bonnie and his friends moved further from the classroom and towards the cafeteria.

“That was _really_ weird,” Goldie finally said once they were seated at their table with the other “high-rung” people.

“Weird?” Chica questioned, raising a brow at the golden bear.

“You didn’t even talk to your partner,” Foxy accused her with a huff, frowning at her. “It was _really_ weird. Somethin’s off about Blanc. He, she, it, whatever is _really_ weird.”

“Maybe there’s a reason,” Freddy mused, frowning. Bonnie blinked and turned his attention to the bear, raising a brow. _Did he notice something too?_

“What do you mean?” he asked. Freddy’s blue eyes were distant, his hand playing with his fork. Clearly he was deep in thought.

“It’s nothing,” the bear finally responded, shrugging. His eyes wandered around the cafeteria for a few moments before resting on the doorway behind Bonnie. Bonnie didn’t even turn around; he could already hear them.

_“...a couple times. But I wouldn’t count that as a fuck up, really.”_

_“Nothing wrong with being a dreamer. I didn’t even speak to Sanchez, so I’m perfectly okay._ ”

 _“So all in all, horrible day?_ ” That was Rodriguez’s voice. It was distant; clearly they were across the cafeteria already. He could barely hear them over the sounds of the students around and he knew very well that his friends couldn’t hear them at all.

 _“Absolutely._ ”

Bonnie rolled his eyes. “They’re complaining about getting partnered with us,” he informed his friends, feeling strangely irritated by it. “As if they have any right to complain, we’re the ones stuck with a bunch of weirdoes.”

“Here here,” Foxy snorted, aggressively taking a bite out of his sandwich.

The purple rabbit picked up his own sandwich. “But you know, Freddy,” he started, glancing over at the brown bear. “I agree. I think there’s a reason for it.”

_And I don’t think it bodes well._

* * *

Bonnie heard the laughter down the hallway before his friends did. As such, he felt absolutely no surprise when he walked into the art studio to find Rodriguez and his friends in there.

What he _wasn’t_ expecting was for the blue rabbit to be spinning around on a swivel stool, the golden rabbit and white fox propelling him with their other friends hovering nearby.

“Oh god dammit,” he heard Foxy whine behind him and the laughter abruptly cut off; Kain’s eyes snapped over to them, Rodriguez lost his balance and fell, Fischbach quickly caught him, Salvage looked briefly at them before turning to his friend, and Blanc scowled over at them, clearly unhappy that their fun had been ruined.

Freddy moved towards the tables in the front of the room and, naturally, they all followed.

“ _Sorry, Al!_ ” the blue rabbit was saying from behind them. “ _Can you put me down now? Don’t drop me!_ ” He glanced over his shoulder just in time to watch Fischbach drop Rodriguez the remaining foot-or-so to the ground. The rabbit on the floor laughed as he stared up at the bear. “ _You’re such a jerk, Alfred._ ” The bear didn’t give a verbal response as he reached down to pull Rodriguez to his feet.

A flash of blue and white fur came to Bonnie’s attention as the rabbit’s shirt- _a few sizes too big_ \- rode up. But... that white wasn’t _all_ fur, he realized. Bonnie’s eyes snapped to the edge of thick white cloth peeking out from under the green shirt. There was a tinge of red just before the white cloth- _bandage!_ \- disappeared under the shirt.

Rodriguez had become aware of his shirt riding up and had pulled it back down but Bonnie _knew_ he saw a blood-stained bandage wrapped around his abdomen. Suddenly, it made sense as to why the small blue rabbit was wearing a shirt three sizes too big; he was trying to _hide_ it.

Now Bonnie felt like an ass. _He’s injured. The hell is he doing at school?_

He turned to his friends to see if any of them had caught it as well, but all of them were facing each other and chatting about their planned movie marathon weekend. _They didn’t even see that…?_

 _“So.”_ He couldn’t tell if that was masculine or feminine, it could go either way, so he quickly determined that that was Blanc’s voice. _“I think we should do something this weekend.”_

 _“We do something_ every _weekend, Mangle.”_ Who was that? It wasn’t deep enough to be the bear and it was too deep to be the chicken, so it must have been Salvage. _I really need to figure out how to differentiate their voices if this is gonna become a regular occurrence._

 _“What’d you have in mind, Mangle?_ ”

Bonnie noticed Foxy’s ears twitching and a scowl slipping into place. _So he_ can _hear them._

_“War by the water.”_

_“Didn’t someone nearly fall in the lake last time we did that?”_ That was _definitely_ Rodriguez. _“Well it’s got my vote~!”_

 _“Same.”_ Higher than the rest, it was _definitely_ Kain.

 _“I can’t tell if you just want to see me fall in the lake this time or not.”_ Definitely Salvage, he decided. _“A day at the lake sounds fun, yeah. We could definitely use a little vacation.”_

 _A vacation? The first week of school isn’t even half done and you already feel like you need a vacation?_ But was that really what he meant, he wondered. _Vacation from school or... something else?_

“Bonnie, earth to Bonnie.” Bonnie blinked, realizing Goldie was waving a hand in front of his face.

_“...xcuses this time?”_

It was so quiet that he had to strain to hear it over the rest of the class. He gave Goldie a grin and waved, saying, “Sorry, lost in thought.”

_“...roject? Tell them we have a project that’ll take all of Saturday?”_

_“Why not Sunday too? Make it an overnight thing. We could camp out in my back yard if it’s not raining.”_

“...stracted? You’re not usually like this, Bonnie,” Goldie said with a frown. Bonnie shrugged, too distracted to really pay his friend all of his attention.

 _“Um,”_ Rodriguez, he quickly identified that annoying voice even from that distance. _“My folks have been trying to get me to drop_ out _of school, I highly doubt they’ll care about me having a research project.”_

That certainly got his attention. _Trying to get him to drop out? What?_ Ignoring whatever it was Goldie was saying, he finally turned around to look at the group. They seemed to be huddled as well as they could be on the same side of the table, none of them seeming bothered at all to be leaning against each other to lean in closer and hear the conversation.

 _“Sneak,”_ Fischbach said. _Sneak what? Sneak out?_ It was much easier to identify voices when he was watching them. _“Don’t need to know.”_

_“And if they come in at midnight to find me gone?”_

“They’ll be too drunk to even remember the next morning,” Blanc snorted, loudly enough where Bonnie was sure even the Fazbears and Chica could pick up on it. However, apparently remembering themself, Blanc lowered their voice as well. _“It might work for my parents, and even if it doesn’t it’s not like they even know where Spring’s house is. We can’t keep using the same old excuses, Blu, they’ll only work for so long.”_

 _“Well, they only need to work for eight or nine more months. Then we’re out of this hellhole and off to freedom_ ,” Salvage said with a sigh, his friends nodding in agreement.

Rodriguez frowned as his eyes trailed away from his friends, looking around the room. When his green eyes met Bonnie’s- _huh, he’s actually got really nice eyes. If he wasn’t such a weirdo girls would probably like that_ \- his eyes widened, and quickly he turned back to his friends, hissing something to them and causing them all to shut up. Bonnie raised a brow at them. _Too late, Rodriguez, I just heard_ all _of that._ Salvage leaned closer to Rodriguez to whisper something in his ear.

He couldn’t hear what they were whispering, but when Salvage straightened up again, he said, “So, war by the water Saturday?”

Bonnie knew they were redirecting the conversation and he turned to look at his friends. Goldie, Foxy, and Chica just looked confused while Freddy wore a frown, his fingers tapping against the table. “Wanna talk about weird?” Bonnie muttered. “I’ll tell you guys everything later.”

“Everything? Wait, why are you suddenly so interested in those weirdoes?” Foxy questioned with a scowl, barely glancing back at said weirdoes. “We’ve spoken to them all of _once._ We’re their science partners, not their _friends_.”

“You don’t need to be friends to know something’s going on here,” Bonnie shot back, turning his gaze to the board in front. “I’m not waiting for someone to fucking _die_ before I’m willing to do something, weirdoes or not.”

That received a tense, chilly silence as the words sunk into his friends’ minds. It lasted only a few seconds which seemed to drag on forever.

 _“Die?”_ Goldie blanched, staring at Bonnie with wide, shocked eyes. “What the hell do you _think’s_ going on that makes you think one of them’s gonna get _killed_?”

Bonnie didn’t get a chance to respond as, at that moment, the bell rang and a red-haired human stood up from his desk in the corner.

“Later,” he hissed to Goldie and, in extension, the others.

The human scanned the class before grinning and saying, “Everyone quiet down now! Up front, all eyes please, so we can get this over and done with and get started on having fun. Alright then, everyone settled? Good. I’m Fritz Smith and this is art, specifically drawing. I see a few familiar faces and a few I don’t recognize at all, so let’s get some introductions out of the way, starting in the front. Now, don’t be shy, we’re all friends here.”

 _No, we’re not,_ Bonnie mused as Mr. Smith gestured for Foxy to stand up and introduce himself to the class. _Not at all._

* * *

Bonnie wasn’t sure if he should bring it up again. He wasn’t _obsessed_ with it, of course, and he really didn’t want to give the others a reason to believe he _was_ . So he didn’t bring it back up. _I’ll say it when it’s relevant again_ , he decided as he worked out a chemical conversion. _Until then, I’ll just stop thinking about it._

However, as he decided this, Chica suddenly dropped her pencil, looked over at him, and demanded, “Bonnie, what the fuck did you mean earlier?”

Startled, he looked up at her and frowned. The others were watching him as well, now. “What do you mean what the fuck did I mean?” he asked incredulously, frowning at Chica. “I think I was very clear.”

“Yes,” Freddy interrupted, drawing Bonnie’s red gaze to him. “You were clear in the fact you think one of them is likely to die. What we don’t understand is how you came to that conclusion.”

There was something in Freddy’s eyes, something in his voice, that told Bonnie that the bear knew more than he was letting on. However, before he could even begin to explain himself, Foxy cut in with, “And after only one conversation.” The fox sat up off of the floor. “C’mon, Bonnie, you’re just reading too much into their words.” Bonnie scowled slightly; _reading too much into their words, huh?_ “We don’t even _know_ them. We’ve only spoken to them once and you’ve only overheard their conversations, what, a couple times? You’re hearing what you _want_ to hear.”

 _No, what I_ want _to hear is that their lives are fucking breezy so it’s okay to hate them, and that is_ not _what I hear!_

“He’s got a point,” Goldie put in and Bonnie frowned over at him as well. “You have a suspicion about somethin’, so your mind’s twisting things to match it. It’s pretty common, actually.”

_Um, no. My mind’s not twisting anything._

Freddy seemed to disagree with his brother as he shifted, frowning. “I don’t know,” the brown bear started. “Somethin’ does seem… _off_ .” Foxy opened his mouth, ready with a retort. “And I’m not just talkin’ about how strange they are.” Foxy’s mouth snapped shut and he scowled. “I think Bonnie’s right, somethin’s going on. And you’re right, too, Foxy; we _don’t_ know them.” He paused and glanced back towards Bonnie, a frown in place. “We see only what they let us see. Well… _Supposedly_ we only see what they want us to see.”

“Supposedly?” Chica repeated, watching the brown bear with a raised brow and a frown. “What do you mean supposedly?”

Freddy shrugged slightly. “When you’re not used to people watching you or paying you any attention, you’re bound to screw up.” With that, the bear turned to Bonnie again. “Bonnie? Context, please?”

 _Oh geez, how do I explain this?_ “Well,” he began slowly, trying to gather his thoughts. Where would he start? _I suppose where I first realized something was wrong._ “When we were doing that stupid questionnaire thing,” he continued after a few seconds of deliberation, “Rodriguez… had a freak-out, I guess? He just suddenly… froze up.” _Oh man, how to describe that moment._ “Like, he wasn’t even _breathing._ And when I tried to say something, he got really, uh…” He trailed off, unsure of how to describe the other rabbit’s expression.

Chica, however, mumbled, “Oh,” causing Bonnie and the other guys to look over at her. “That’s what that was about, huh?” she asked, watching him with a frown. “He sounded really pissed, Bonnie.”

 _Yeah, he was._ “You heard that, huh?” Chica nodded and he frowned; he should have expected that, considering she hadn’t been speaking and was in the desk next to his. “I don’t know what set him off, really,” Bonnie admitted, glancing up at his ceiling. “He wasn’t just angry, he was _scared_ . Terrified, even. I don’t even know what I did to scare him but he didn’t seem all there.” He still suspected it was _that_ word, though. That common insult, the one everyone said at some point in their lives. _Bitch._ But why?

“So you did something to scare him,” Foxy scoffed dismissively from his spot on the floor. Bonnie’s eyes snapped back down to him, frowning. “That doesn’t mean anything, Bonnie.”

Frown deepening, he looked Foxy right in the eyes and said as flatly and matter-of-factly as he could, “A bloody bandage does, though.”

The others all fell silent and still, watching him and waiting for him to elaborate. And he did. “When we went into the art room his shirt rode up when Fishbach pulled him to his feet. You guys were talking about our marathon and I was watching them, ‘cause they had said some really weird things. He had a bandage wrapped around his abdomen and there was blood on it- and I wasn’t just _seeing_ things, ma’s a doctor, I know a bandage when I see one.”

The bear twins exchanged worried glances and Chica shifted in her seat, frowning. _Foxy’s the only one not taking me seriously right now._

However, when the fox spoke again, even he sounded uneasy. “So he probably fell. It doesn’t mean anything.”

 _Doesn’t mean anything? It sounds like some type of fucking_ trauma _to me, Foxy!_ He opened his mouth to say as much but Freddy suddenly cut him off.

“Fischbach’s practically mute.”

Bonnie blinked and turned to Freddy in surprise. The brown bear seemed to be surprised with his own words, as though they had slipped out without his permission.

“Huh?” Goldie sounded as confused as Bonnie felt. “No he’s not, I heard him talking.”

Freddy sighed and rolled his eyes. “Practically. I didn’t say he _is_ .” Freddy shook his head, frown returning. “I thought he was being rude at first but he was legitimately struggling to say anything.” Bonnie frowned; surely they would have noticed if someone they’d known, even distantly, had speech problems. Though it _would_ explain why the bear, when called on, never answered... “He looked really ashamed about it, too. I basically had to watch him the entire time... which is kind of awkward but yeah...” He trailed off, as if unsure if he should continue.

“And that has anything to do with a bloody bandage because...?” Chica prompted him to continue, watching him with a raised brow and a sharp frown.

“He had a bruise around his wrist, too,” Freddy explained, briefly lifting his left hand. “He rubbed his wrist and ended up pulling the fur back and I noticed it. I didn’t really get a good look, considering I was only glancing, but it… looked a _lot_ like a hand.” He added quickly, “From what I saw, anyway.” It was as though he was looking for a reason to think something he sounded sure about was wrong.

They were all silent as they looked around at each other, all of them equally unsure of what to do or think. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Chica finally advised, shaking her head at them. She looked directly at Bonnie. “We don’t know what’s going on. For all we know they could have been roughhousing or gotten themselves into an accident.” Almost as an afterthought, she tacked on, “Besides, Kain didn’t look like she had _any_ sort of trouble going on.”

“I didn’t notice anything about Salvage either,” Goldie added, though Bonnie noticed that he was frowning and his brows were drawn together. _Looks like you’re rethinking that, Gold._ “He was just really nervous and wary.”

“Blanc kept zoning out but that doesn’t mean anything,” Foxy huffed, shaking his head at all of them. Specifically Bonnie. “They’re all weirdoes and they’re bonded by their mutual weirdness, but that doesn’t _mean_ anything, Bonnie.”

Bonnie’s ears twitched; he couldn’t help the flash of agitation rushing through him at his friend’s words. “I’m just saying that I _really_ think someone needs to keep an eye on those five,” he explained as calmly as he could. “Something is _wrong_ here and if it has _anything_ to do with what I think it might-”

“We have no right to suspect _anything_ !” Foxy snarled, sitting up and away from the wall and glaring at Bonnie. “There was a bruise, a bandage, and a freak-out, whatever! It doesn’t mean anything, it could be any number of things! It’s _none of our business_.”

Bonnie was struck dumb, but not because he disagreed. Because he couldn’t understand how obtuse Foxy was being- Foxy, who should have been the most sensitive to these things out of all of them. Because as far as Bonnie knew, this sounded a _lot_ like someone was hurting the rabbit. And if Fischbach had a bruise then maybe someone was hurting _him_ too. And if someone was hurting two of them, who was to say someone wasn’t hurting _all_ of them? It would be the lowest common denominator between the five of them if it was true.

“I think,” Chica finally broke the silence, picking her pen up again, “that both of you are right.”

Bonnie’s eyes snapped over to her, furrowing his brow. _How is that possible?_ He wondered. Apparently he wasn’t the only one as Goldie said, “How can both of them be right? They’re saying the exact _opposite_ of each other.”

It was true; he and Foxy were on completely different sides here.

“They’re both right in a way,” Chica told them, rolling her eyes as she pointed her pen towards Bonnie. “Bonnie’s right, somethin’ fishy’s goin’ on, and if it puts any of them in danger then just standing by and watching it happen is just as bad as dealin’ the blow ourselves.”

 _Well at least someone understands_ , he thought bitterly as he followed Chica’s pen towards Foxy. “But Foxy’s also right that we can’t just assume we know what’s going on and get involved. If we do, we risk messing a _lot_ of things up, for ourselves and Fischbach and his friends.”

Bonnie hated to admit that she was right. Chica dropped her pen back on Bonnie’s desk and leveled them all with a stare. “We _don’t_ know them, we’re outsiders looking in. We _don’t_ know what’s going on, we _don’t know_ so we shouldn’t get involved _._ The most we should do at this point is watch for signs.”

 _Watch for signs. But what kind? I’ve already_ seen _the signs, Chica, and I only spoke to him for all of_ ten minutes _today. For the_ first time ever _._

“Watch for signs?” Foxy repeated incredulously. “Haven’t we already established that when you get an idea your mind twists things to match it?” Bonnie glared at him, huffing softly. He was _not_ seeing and hearing the things he _wanted_ to hear. It was so much easier being able to assume that Rodriguez and his friends were just stuck-up unfriendly assholes.

“Then don’t call ambiguous actions or conversations proof or signs,” Chica sighed impatiently, looking at their vulpine friend. “Foxy, you should know this better than any of us.”

Bonnie was shocked; he was sure all of them had _thought_ it but he hadn’t expected Chica to _say_ it. He looked over towards Foxy, who was frowning sharply but silent now. Several seconds of silence passed before the fox bit out a, “Fine.”

Finally Goldie seemed to catch on to what they were meaning. “So wait,” he started slowly, looking around at them all. “Did we just agree to keep an eye on our _least favourite people in the entire school?_ ”

“Pretty much,” Freddy confirmed flatly. “Just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean they deserve whatever’s happening.” Bonnie didn’t miss the use of the word “you” instead of “we.” _Always so neutral, Freddy..._

“If anything at all,” Chica added to Freddy’s words and Freddy nodded in agreement. Bonnie couldn’t help but scowl; he _knew_ something was going on and he _would_ figure it out.

“If anything at all, yes.”

Bonnie watched his friends fall into a short silence. It was broken by Goldie asking, “Keep an eye on our science partners, huh? What exactly are we watching for, anyway? Signs, but signs of what?”

The silence lasted a few moments longer, the answer in the air but none of them wanting to voice it. “Anything suspicious, I guess,” Bonnie finally answered. “Things like… I dunno…” He hesitated. “Depression, abuse, gang activity- you know, that kind of stuff.”

They fell into another silence, this one somehow much more tense than before. Bonnie could tell just by looking at them that those words were echoing in their minds. They echoed in his own mind, too. He had no real reason to suspect abuse, but the depression and gang activity... well, they seemed more plausible, at least without having met Rodriguez’s parents. _But that bandage..._

Nothing was off of the table because they simply didn’t _know_ . He turned back to his review packet, frowning at the question he was on. The mutual, albeit uneasy, agreement hung between them all. _Keep an eye on your science partner. Watch for anything strange or dangerous. And be careful._

He sighed and glanced up towards his friends. He needed to break the tense silence and change the subject. It was becoming suffocating.

“What’s the answer for number eight?”


	5. Be careful of Watching Eyes, Blu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, I just realized today that Beneath Their Masks’ Blu is very much like Pierrot from Vocaloid/Ashe (and you’ll really see what I mean in future chapters). Huh. Interesting.

“Thank you for your cooperation, class. Remember, these review packets need to be done by class Wednesday. You can use the next five minutes to talk amongst yourselves but I ask you don’t leave your desks, please.”

Blu hardly glanced at the thick review packet sitting innocently on his desk. It was mostly reading but there were about forty questions in all; on the first pages were basics divided into different sections and on the following eight pages were readings with questions  _ about  _ the readings. It felt more like English class than science class to him.

“Blu,” he heard the soft call from behind him. Turning around to face the golden rabbit, he gave him the biggest grin he could muster at the moment. He was aware of red eyes on him but he pointedly ignored Henderson, concentrating on his frowning, fidgeting friend.

“Yeah, Spring?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet as well despite the fact that they both knew very well that they couldn’t have a private conversation with the Fazcrew so close to them.

Spring’s frown deepened and Blu knew he had already been seen through. However, Spring didn’t ask what was wrong; that was something that they weren’t going to discuss with Fazbear and Henderson right next to them-  _ and Henderson is still watching me, it’s really fucking creepy! Dammit, did he see through me too? Get your act together, Blu! _

“Blu?”

He blinked. “Huh?” he asked dumbly, staring at his concerned friend.

“Careful, you’re pulling a Mangle,” Spring told him with a small laugh, but there was no humour in it. He was watching him with only concern, and over the golden rabbit’s shoulder he could see Alfred watching both of them with a frown and furrowed brow. Across the room he could hear a girl squeal in laughter.

Blu hummed and twitched his ears up, giving his friends a confident grin. “Me, pull a Mangle? Aw, c’mon, I’m not  _ that _ cool, you know~” he sang teasingly, earning a small quirk of the lip from both friends. He wanted to look over at Mangle and Chii but then he’d have to look at the Fazcrew and he was already doing his damnedest to ignore the chatting twins next to his friends.

“My mistake,” Spring teased right back, lifting a hand to wave dismissively as he rolled his eyes. “Mangle  _ does _ always beat you in the studio, anyway.”

He gave a gasp of mock offense. “I beg to differ! Mangle barely stays on tempo!”

“Mangle  _ marks _ the tempo, Blu,” Spring giggled, his left ear flopping down to block his face from others’ view. It was instinctive by now and Blu knew he himself did it too; any action that seemed  _ vulnerable _ was hidden from sight as best it could be. Giggling certainly  _ felt  _ vulnerable, at least to Spring. Blu, however,  _ loved _ giggling. “They can’t be  _ off _ tempo when they  _ make _ the tempo.”

“I disagree,” Alfred put in with a small smirk.

“Oh shush, Mr. Vocals,” Spring snorted, looking over his shoulder at Alfred with a grin. Blu giggled. “If I remember right  _ you  _ were the one off tempo this morning.”

“Nope,” Alfred disagreed, shaking his head. “ _ You _ .”

“Me?” Spring gave a mock-sniff, lifting his nose in the air with half-lidded eyes. Blu was immediately reminded of Spring’s mother and gave a wry grin; Spring could pull off that posh aristocratic look when he wanted to.  _ That’s probably how he got his way with this shitty school, now that I think about it. _ “I’ll have you know, good sirs, I am  _ not _ at fault here.  _ Obviously _ the song was too slow to begin with.”

Blu tried to play along, he really did, but as his eyes met Alfred’s across Spring’s desk he quickly lost the fight and dissolved into his own fit of giggles. “Oh my gods, Spring,  _ really _ ?”

The golden rabbit gave him a grin, breaking the facade. “I  _ am _ really sorry about that, by the way. I was out late and, you know... Last night wasn’t very… you know…” he trailed off.

He didn’t want to say it but that was fine. Blu understood. He nodded slightly as the bell rang. “We know,” he assured, pushing himself up and leaping over the bar blocking his way out of the right side of the desk. He did not want to get  _ too  _ close to Henderson, even if it was just to get out of the desk. “And then you get up at unholy o’clock.” Really, all of them did.

“Hypocrite,” Alfred snorted, waiting patiently for the Fazbear next to him to stand up and leave before sliding out of the desk himself.

Blu ignored the rest of the class as they filed out, looking at his friends with his hands on his hips. “I’ll have you know that I am a  _ proud _ hypocrite, thank you very much,” he drawled, but before anyone could respond a white arm draped around his shoulders.

“This was the most horrible thing I have ever gone through,” Mangle sighed dramatically, leaning slightly on Blu. The blue rabbit did his best to not overbalance; Mangle was several inches taller and quite a few pounds heavier than himself, and his injured leg and side weren’t much help on that front. “Please tell me we have something to look forward to!”

“Well,” Spring started as he finally stood up, a small grin in place, “it’s lunch time and then we have art with Mr. Smith.”

Chii bounced in place and cheered happily, “Yay! Come on, let’s go claim our table before some freshmen get it,” she laughed, pulling her bag up on her shoulder. “I made lunch for all of us.” She hesitated, looking around at all of them. Her eyes flickered around the room before she asked, “Are you guys alright?”

Blu glanced around at the empty room. Outside he could hear footsteps passing and voices drifting down the hall, but otherwise it was clear. He dropped his voice, just in case. “I think I may have really fucked up already.”

They all exchanged worried glances. “Why?” Alfred asked simply. It was one word but it said so many different things;  _ What happened? Are you okay? What did Henderson do? Do we need to run damage control?  _ It was so concerned, so protective, so  _ worried _ that Blu honestly didn’t know  _ how _ to respond.

_ How do I even say it? I flashed back to what happened last night and nearly had a freak out? Henderson noticed that I was starting to freak out? How do I even say that? _

“You looked like you almost had an episode,” Chii put in softly, worried. Blu blinked and looked at her; how had she even noticed? “I heard you kinda… at the, uh, future plans question. I looked over at you and you looked pretty bad, Blu.”

“Oh…” Blu rubbed the back of his neck and gave a nervous smile. “Well, uh, Henderson said something that made me think about last night…” It was his turn to trail off. His friends frowned and exchanged glances again. He felt Mangle’s weight shift away and the fox stepped around to actually look at him. “It’s no big deal, though. It was a… really big slip-up but it doesn’t exactly say what happened. It’s not like he saw the bandages or something,” he added with a laugh. “For all he knows anything could have triggered it, so, uh, yeah… What about you guys? Everything okay?” They didn’t look convinced but went along with his redirection anyway.

“Yeah,” Spring shrugged. “I didn’t have a panic attack so that’s something. Al?”

They finally began heading towards the door as the crowd outside thinned. Alfred just gave a noncommittal shrug and Blu frowned.

“I guess,” he said simply and Blu knew it meant something  _ did _ happen.

They all frowned and glanced at each other. They knew Alfred wouldn’t be able to explain what needed to be said- not at that moment, anyway- so they moved on, looking towards Mangle.

“I zoned out a couple times,” Mangle admitted as they entered the cafeteria, making a bee-line for their usual table in the back corner. “But I wouldn’t count that as a fuck up, really.”

“Nothing wrong with being a dreamer,” Chii agreed as she sat down between Alfred and Spring. “I didn’t even speak to Sanchez so I’m perfectly okay.”

Blu dropped down across from Chii with Mangle sitting on his right, across from Alfred and next to the wall. It was their common set-up in the cafeteria; they sat that way more for Mangle’s sake than anything else.

“So all in all, horrible day?” Blu questioned.

“Absolutely,” the others, bar Alfred, chorused while Alfred simply nodded in agreement. 

“Should’ve known the moment you lost your balance this morning that it would be,” Mangle sighed, accepting the offered fruit salad from Chii. Blu took the one offered to him as well with a small, sheepish grin.

“Yeah, sorry,” he apologized despite knowing it wasn’t even his fault. He pulled the lid off of the fruit salad and happily began eating.  _ I love strawberries... _

“Hurry up and eat so there’s time for dessert, boys and Mangle~” Chii chirped, lifting five more containers out of her bag. Blu perked up at the sight of the strawberry-topped cake inside.  _ My favourite! _

“Awesome!” he cheered, grinning. “Thanks, Chii, you’re the best.”

“Aw, my grandmother could have done so much better,” Chii laughed, waving her hand dismissively as she passed the cake slices around. “Sorry, Spring, I would’ve gotten you chocolate cake but we don’t have any right now.”

“That’s fine,” Spring laughed, giving Blu a smirk. “Chocolate might be  _ far  _ superior but this is good too~”

They all laughed as Blu pointed his fork at the taller rabbit. “Now wait just a moment there, goldy-bun, ain’t  _ nothin’ _ superior to strawberry!”

“I beg to differ,” Chii giggled, exchanging a knowing look with Alfred. “There  _ is _ something superior to strawberries.”

“Chocolate is not it, though,” Mangle snorted, grinning at Spring. “Not even close~!”

Spring pointed dramatically at Mangle and cried out, probably loud enough to be heard throughout the entire cafeteria, “Treason!”

And what remained of the tense air slid away just like that as Blu laughed with his friends. He felt like the teenager he was supposed to be, if only for a moment. 

He was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

* * *

Blu knew the peace was too good to last.

He was sitting on a stool in the back corner of the art room, spinning around and laughing like the child he wished he could have been, with his eyes closed and hanging tightly on to his seat. Mangle and Spring were laughing right along with him as they spun him around and he knew Alfred was hovering close, just in case he fell, while Chii was laughing as she watched a safe distance away.

When he heard the abrupt “oh god dammit” from the doorway, he stopped laughing, opened his eyes and lifted his head... and he lost his balance. He squealed as he fell over and Alfred jerked forward to catch him before he hit the hard tile floor full force.

_ Play it off, Blu, play it off. _ He laughed and looked up at the bear who had caught him, who was frowning down at him. The frown wasn’t  _ towards  _ him, though. “Sorry, Al! Can you put me down now? Don’t drop me!” he added a moment before the bear dropped him the remaining inches to the ground. He laughed and stared up at his friend. “You’re such a jerk, Alfred.”

Alfred gave him a smirk and knelt down, grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet. He frowned again as he quickly scanned Blu, as if to make sure he actually was alright. “Shirt.”

Blu blinked, confused, before realizing what he meant; his shirt had ridden up. Quickly he pulled it back down and straightened it, frowning to himself. He didn’t bother to glance towards the front of the room to figure out who had entered; the voice had been somewhat familiar.  _ Not Henderson but familiar. Was it Jones? Or Fazbear… don’t remember, don’t care. _ “Thanks,” he said, giving Alfred a grin before walking over to the table Chii was sitting at. He dropped down next to her and turned to look at Alfred and Spring as they sat on either side of them, and Mangle slid into the seat next to the window.

“So,” Mangle started, all of them pointedly ignoring the group in the front, “I think we should do something this weekend.”

“We do something  _ every _ weekend, Mangle,” Spring pointed out and Blu snorted.

“I think they mean something outside the house, Spring,” Blu told him, leaning on his hand to lazily watch his vulpine friend. “What’d you have in mind, Mangle?”

A grin spread across Mangle’s face as they leaned forward, almost conspiratorially, and said, “War by the water.”

Blu felt a grin of his own form. “Didn’t someone nearly fall in the lake last time we did that?” he asked, eyes flitting to Spring who seemed to be blushing slightly in embarrassment. “Well it’s got my vote~!”

“Same,” Chii giggled while Alfred simply nodded, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I can’t tell if you just want to see me fall in the lake this time or not,” Spring snorted, shrugging. “A day at the lake sounds fun, yeah. We could definitely use a little vacation.” 

The rabbit then hesitated and gestured for all of them come in closer, which they did without second thought, scooting their chairs forward and leaning closer to him in the best huddle they could manage like that. He could feel Chii leaning against his back, her head poking over his shoulder. When Spring spoke again, his voice was low and hushed. Under the din of voices, no one would hear them unless they were actively listening for it. “What’ll be the excuses this time, though?”

“Research project?” Chii suggested just as hushed, running her fingers through her feathers. “Tell them we have a project that’ll take all of Saturday?”

“Why not Sunday too? Make it an overnight thing,” Spring added, glancing around at all of them. “We could camp out in my back yard if it’s not raining.”

“Um,” Blu cut in, lifting a hand to get their attention. “My folks have been trying to get me to  _ drop out _ of school, I highly doubt they’ll care about me having a research project.”

“Sneak,” Alfred said simply, causing Blu to turn to him. “Don’t need to know.”

“And if they come in at midnight to find me gone?” The last time that happened had  _ not _ been fun. He was pretty sure he still had the scar, but his fur was thick enough and the scar thin enough to cover it. Spring wasn’t so lucky with his own… so Blu knew he should be grateful for his own luck.

“They’ll be too drunk to even remember the next morning,” Mangle snorted, a little too loudly for Blu’s taste. They seemed to realize that they had raised their voice as when they spoke again, their voice was lower and more hushed. “It might work for my parents, and even if it doesn’t it’s not like they even know where Spring’s house is. We can’t keep using the same old excuses, Blu, they’ll only work for so long.”

“Well, they only need to work for eight or nine more months,” Spring sighed, running a hand through his own fur. “Then we’re out of this hellhole and off to freedom.”

_ If we survive that long _ , Blu immediately thought, turning his gaze to the front of the classroom. Immediately green eyes met crimson and his eyes widened in shock.  _ Fuck, can he hear us?! _ “Guys, shut up,” he hissed, whipping around to his friends again and cutting Mangle off mid-sentence.

Spring blinked, shocked. “Blu?”

He glanced back over towards Henderson, who as he expected was now watching him with a raised brow, clearly unimpressed. Spring’s eyes flicked over and he frowned as he caught sight of those watching red eyes. The golden rabbit leaned over to whisper. “Has he been listening to us?”

“I think so,” Blu whispered back, glancing at the ceiling.  _ Why is he watching us? He’s supposed to pretend we don’t exist. _ “I must’a  _ really _ fucked up.”

“Relax, Blu,” Spring sighed, straightening up and leaning on his hand, stretching his fingers as he did so. Blu and the others understood the signal.  _ Act natural _ . “So, war by the water Saturday?” he redirected. To anyone who might have tuned in at that moment, it sounded as if they were simply arranging a hangout rather than diverting. “And then camping in the back yard if weather permits?”

“Throw in a picnic and a jam session and I agree,” Blu put in with a grin, getting a laugh from his friends.

“Oh Blu,” Mangle sighed melodramatically, leaning over to drop their left hand on his shoulder. “Haven’t you realized by now we will  _ always _ jam?”

Blu’s ear twitched as the bell rang and he looked up, noticing a red-haired human standing at the front of the classroom, a grin on his face and hands on his hips. “I think class is about to start.”

“Everyone quiet down now! Up front, all eyes please, so we can get this over and done with and get started on having fun. Alright then, everyone settled? Good. I’m Fritz Smith and this is…”

* * *

When the front door opened and a giggling child could be heard, Blu looked up from the review packet sitting on the coffee table. He noticed his friends following suit and grinned a bit as a small golden rabbit ran through the door into the large, open living room.

“Hey guys!” the child greeted happily as he skid to a stop, waving frantically at them.

“Hey Plushie,” Blu greeted brightly, waving back and setting his pencil down. “Is there a bigger version of you following?”

“I heard that, Blu,” Spring called as he walked through the open door, keys clutched in his hand. Blu gave him a teasing grin. 

“Everything alright?” he asked, looking back at the smaller, more energetic child as he dropped his small, light bag on the floor and pulled out a colourful magazine-like workbook.

“Plushie’s got his first homework assignment already,” Spring explained, amused as he sat down on the floor next to Alfred. “He’s excited.”

“Excited for homework?” Chii giggled, looking over at Plushie. “He’ll change his tune soon enough.”

The little rabbit giggled and carried his yellow pencil box and the workbook over to the coffee table. “But now I’m more like Springy!” he declared proudly, bouncing in place. 

They all laughed, though Blu knew Spring didn’t want Plushie to be  _ anything _ like him. In fact, it was something they all strived to prevent. After all, Spring’s entire life was defined by one thing that he needed medicine for...

Blu pushed the thought from his mind. “What kind of homework is it?” he asked the little rabbit instead.

“It’s just seeing what they already know,” Spring explained as he pulled Plushie into his lap, so the small rabbit could actually see the top of the coffee table and his workbook. “As far as I know, it’s got the ABCs, simple addition and subtraction- you know, like two plus two- and spelling.”

“Do they really expect six-year-olds to know all that?” Mangle asked with a frown, glancing at the workbook. “I didn’t learn to read until I was eight.”

“Considering all of us learned how to read in kindergarten, you’re kind of alone there, Mangle,” Blu chuckled, though he wasn’t exactly  _ happy _ about it. “Plushie, you know your ABCs right?”

“Yeah!” Plushie giggled, picking up his pencil. He held it wrong, like a knife of some kind, but Spring gently corrected his hold. It was almost awkward, the way Spring showed him how to hold it; Plushie was right-handed, after all, and Spring wasn’t. “Springy and Mimi sang it with me all the time!”

“Oh really?” Chii giggled, looking at Spring.

“Oh shush you,” Spring laughed, watching as Plushie began writing out the ABCs. Blu noticed he only wrote out the capital letters. “I used to love that song when I was your age.”

“Silly,” Alfred chuckled, turning back to his review packet. “Blu. Twenty-nine.”

Blu blinked and flipped to the next page of his packet, looking at the question. “Ummm…” he trailed, frowning as he thought. “Nitric oxide, I believe.”

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” Blu nodded, quickly circling the answer before returning to question twenty-three. He heard the rustling of papers as Spring pulled his own review packet out. None of them spoke, concentrating on getting their work done.

“I’m bored,” Plushie declared after several minutes of silence and Blu giggled. “Spriiiing, I’m bored!”

“Welcome to the life of homework, kiddo,” Spring chuckled, ruffling his brother’s fur and sharing a grin with his friends. “Once you finish up yours, why don’t you go practice your dance?”

“Can’t I just go now?”

“Already trying to escape homework,” Mangle giggled from their place, leaning on the coffee table to peer over at the bunny kit. “How cute~”

“Not until your homework is done, Plushie,” Spring chuckled, reaching over to lightly push Mangle away.

Although the little rabbit whined, he obediently returned to his homework. Occasionally he’d ask for help, but mostly he already knew everything. Blu didn’t fail to notice this.

_ Looks like he’s more like you than you’d like, Spring, _ he thought tiredly, scratching out a miscalculation.  _ But is that any surprise? He was here that November, after all. _ He cut the thought off there, narrowing his eyes.  _ Concentrate, Blu. _

They spoke occasionally to see where each other were and to help each other out, and eventually they reached the end of the review packet. It was almost seven o’clock and Plushie had long since run off upstairs to play. 

_ An hour of daylight left. Awesome. _

“Hey guys,” he said, looking towards his friends. They all turned to look at him as they slipped their packets into their bags. “Wanna go outside and mess around?”

“Mess around how?” Chii questioned curiously, zipping her bag back up.

“You know, run around, climb some trees, the good ol’ stuff,” Blu answered with a shrug. Spring frowned at him, unsure.

“Blu, you’re hurt,” he reminded the rabbit. “Running around and climbing trees is the  _ last  _ thing you want to do.”

Blu frowned and glanced down at his side, ears flopping down. It hurt a lot less than before but he knew that was because of the pain medicine he had taken upon arriving at the mansion.  _ They’re right… _ He sighed and leaned on his hand, staring at the table. “Right, you’re right,” he agreed forlornly, glancing up. “Well then, we could just watch a movie or play music or something, I guess. I just thought… you know, sunlight and stuff.”

He watched as the others exchanged frowns.  _ I hate this _ , he decided, averting his gaze.  _ Seventeen years, you’d think I’d be used to being limited. _ His fingers brushed against the fresh bandage, frown sharpening.  _ It’s not like this is the first time, after all. And it certainly won’t be the last. _

“Come on,” Spring finally decided, standing up and dropping his bag onto the sofa none of them occupied. “Let’s go get our guitars and we’ll play outside today. It’s too nice a day to waste inside.”

Looking up at him, Blu flashed him a small smile. It was a compromise between what they wanted to do and what they  _ could _ do. They had been making them for as long as they could remember.

Mangle can’t walk too well? Let’s sit on the back porch and watch a movie together. Alfred is struggling to breathe? Let’s spend the day relaxing, maybe playing some music out on the lawn or even some videogames in Spring's bedroom. Spring forgot to take his medicine? Let’s just mess around and talk about movies and games. Chii doesn’t want anyone to touch her? Let’s just watch a movie in the living room while she messes around in the kitchen. 

Blu got clawed and slashed by his mom again? Let’s just play our guitars and sing a song.

It was normal. It was what they always did. Their entire lives were just one big compromise between the things that they  _ wanted  _ to do and the things they were  _ actually  _ _capable_ of doing. Yes, they were used to it.

That didn’t mean they had to like it, though.


	6. Notes, Bonnie

_Notes_

_1) Group always whispering, stop the moment anyone gets within earshot_   
_2) Pay no one else attention until they start whispering_   
_3) Rodriguez froze up at being called “bitch”- bad connotation? Flashback?_   
_4) Bloody bandage around Rodriguez’s abdomen; Fischbach had bruise around wrist_   
_5) Fischbach nearly mute; psychological?_   
_6) Blanc easily distracted, zones out a lot; coping mechanism? Escapism?_   
_7) Apparently all need excuses to visit friends??_   
_8) Parents trying to get Rodriguez to drop out, possibly are alcoholics(?)_   
_9) Salvage refers to here as “hellhole”- reason?_

Bonnie frowned down at his notebook, tapping a pen against the paper. He figured it would be best to actually keep track of everything they noticed about the “odd” students. So far the list wasn’t impressive, but it was certainly a lot for a single day’s observance.

Earlier that day- when Rodriguez and his friends weren’t forced to be in Bonnie and his own friends’ presence- hadn’t yielded many, if any, results. The “strange” students had kept looking around, and if they saw Bonnie was even partially visible, even if it was across a crowded and loud room, they simply fell silent. If they even thought someone could _possibly_ hear them, they just... stopped.

Bonnie frowned and added one more item to the list.

_10) Very secretive, somewhat paranoid?_

He thought about adding that they had already had art classes before, but then he decided that that probably wasn’t relevant. Instead, he marked down the date at the bottom of the list and closed the notebook. After a moment of thought, he slid the notebook into his bookbag.

At first, he had considered leaving it at home in case he dropped it or someone else saw it. However, he decided being able to immediately note something down in full detail was worth the risk. After all, how much could he possibly forget between gym and returning home?

With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair. “Jesus Christ, this makes me look obsessed,” he muttered, slipping his pen back into its case. “I _will_ figure you out, dammit. _All_ of you.”

Whether or not his friends honestly believed something was up, Bonnie was positive that something was _wrong._ He couldn’t bring himself to ignore the few signs he’d seen just that first day.

“And tomorrow we have science, meaning you can’t avoid me,” he added, though he sounded somewhat bitter. “Can’t hide forever...”

“Bon, who are you talkin’ to, sweetie?”

He winced, glancing towards the door. A lavender rabbit lady stood there, watching him with a raised brow as she adjusted the watch on her wrist. She was dressed in a simple white blouse with black slacks and shining black dress shoes.

_She must be headin’ out to work._

“Just thinkin’ out loud, ma,” he excused, flashing his mother a bright grin. She just crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, clearly unconvinced.

“Then somethin’s botherin’ ya,” the lady stated matter-of-factly. “That’s the only reason ya ever think out loud. Your father always did that, too.”

He tried to not grimace at being compared to his father. He still loved the man, of course, but he did _not_ want to be _anything_ like him. “Oh geez, Ma, I am _not_ Dad,” he complained, leaning over on his desk. He tried to steer the conversation away from himself. “What time are you comin’ home?”

His mother studied him for several moments before sighing. “My shift ends at four but I probably won’t get away until six or seven,” she answered, though her blue eyes reflected worry. However, she didn’t push Bonnie to tell her what was wrong, instead tacking on, “Lakeview General tends to have those _really_ prissy patients. Y’know, the ones who come in with stomach pains and force ya to run useless tests because they _so_ do not have “gas problems.””

Bonnie snorted. “Your fault for working in the rich man’s hospital,” he lightly teased, straightening up the items on his desk. In all honesty Lakeview General wasn’t a “rich man” hospital, seeing as it would be against the law to deny medical care to anyone, but it was located just off of Lakeview Road, which was dotted on either side by large mansions that even the Fazbears would be hard-pressed to afford.

Not that they _couldn’t_ afford them; the Fazbears could probably buy one, in full cash upfront, if they wanted to- probably one bordering the park around the lake, even.

After a few moments of silence, Bonnie glanced up to see his mother lingering in his doorway. He raised a brow. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“Alright, spill,” his mother suddenly commanded and Bonnie winced.

She was putting on her mom voice. _Have to play my cards right, now._

“It’s nothing,” he lied. “Just tired. It _is_ almost ten.”

“You’ve been actin’ off since yesterday,” she started, watching him with a frown. “You _and_ your friends. Somethin’ goin’ on at school?”

“Kinda, I guess,” Bonnie sighed. He _so_ did not want to ask his mother about it. His mother was a logical woman, after all, and without concrete evidence she wouldn’t see his side of things. “But it’ll be fine,” he added, though he could only hope that was true. “We were just assigned partners in science and I’m being difficult over that.”

There was no better way to get away with a lie than by telling the truth, now was there?

His mother eyed him suspiciously before sighing. “Is that what these long, serious faces have been about?”

“Yep,” Bonnie confirmed with a nod. “We just didn’t get the partners we wanted. Hey, we’re not graduated yet, we can still be immature.”

“Boys,” she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. Bonnie’s ears twitched as he heard a _ping._ “Well, Bonnie, go to bed now,” she told him as she straightened up and pulled her phone out. “I need to get goin’, and don’t even think of skipping classes tomorrow.”

“I’ve never skipped!” Bonnie immediately called as his mother headed down the hallway.

“Ninth grade, February!” was the response he got.

“I _told_ you, that was a special case!”

He listened to his mother’s laughter fade as she descended the stairs and went out the front door. As soon as he heard the door shut, he relaxed and leaned back in his seat. The rabbit stared up at the ceiling above, frowning as he went over the conversation. As he did, he felt a sinking in his stomach.

His mother was one of the head doctors at Lakeview General Hospital, she probably knew what the signs of abuse or... whatever else was possibly going on were. She could have told him if his concerns were unfounded or if he really _should_ do something.

_Why didn’t I tell her the truth? Maybe she could have helped..._

* * *

It was no surprise to Bonnie that Rodriguez wasn’t in the changing rooms. It wasn’t a surprise that Fischbach and Salvage weren’t there, either. Bonnie couldn’t remember one time where he actually _saw_ them in the changing rooms.

An action that he once would have dismissed. He made a mental note to write it down later.

Biting his tongue, Bonnie pulled his gym shirt on and glanced around. Foxy was already out of the room, Freddy was taking his time, and Goldie was simply leaning against a wall, staring down at the floor with a frown. Clearly Bonnie’s golden-furred friend was deep in thought... troubled, too.

Around them, other guys shamelessly flaunted, bragging about their summer workouts and tans, but Bonnie couldn’t be bothered to give a damn about any of them.

It wasn’t like big football meatheads were his type, anyway. He’d leave that to the cheerleaders.

“Hurry it up!” a voice called from outside the changing room, spurring the footballers to quickly pull on their shirts. “Down to the track, boys!”

Goldie gave a long-suffering sigh as he pushed away from the wall, and the three of them went to meet up with Foxy. Briefly, Bonnie and Freddy’s gazes connected.

Once everyone was out of the changing rooms- Bonnie noticed that their science partners didn’t show up- the gym coach began leading them down to the track. It wasn’t too far from the gym, down into a bowl-like area in the ground wrapping around the football field, so the walk was rather short. Bonnie’s only complaint was the incline they had to walk down.

Once they made it to the track, the coach gave them the go ahead to begin warm-ups, and then the mile started.

Foxy took off, more than happy to show off his track-and-field skills, and Bonnie rolled his eyes as he himself began at a jog. Around him, his more sporty classmates quickly followed Foxy’s lead, passing Bonnie and leaving him, the Fazbears, and others in the dust.

 _Alright, y’all finish the mile right quick, go ahead, but I’m making it easier on myself to pass at the end of the year,_ Bonnie snorted softly to himself, glancing around. At the end of the year they would run the mile again and their grade would depend on how much faster they finished it.

_Good luck beating your five-minute year start time._

His eyes scanned over his classmates, his frown deepening at the distinct lack of bright blue. He looked over his shoulder, scanning the students jogging behind him.

There were only four; the Fazbear twins and two humans. Freddy’s eyes were also scanning over their classmates while Goldie was simply staring at the ground, a small scowl on his face as he thought about... whatever was on his mind.

Then Bonnie’s red eyes met Freddy’s blue. His friend looked troubled. Bonnie knew why.

He slowed down, allowing the brown bear to catch up to him.

“Ya look bothered,” Bonnie observed, glancing aside at his friend.

“Well it’s only the third day of school,” was Freddy’s simple response. “Usually it’s at _least_ a week before they start skippin’ classes as a whole group.” Bonnie wouldn’t know how true that was; he only noticed when they were present... never when they weren’t.

Not until that day, anyway. _This’d be a first._

“My best guess is none of them were in good enough shape for gym today,” Bonnie muttered to Freddy, frowning as he turned to look forward, brow furrowing in thought. “I mean, that bandage...”

“Don’t forget, no assuming,” Freddy warned him, but his tone lacked any bite. He sighed as Bonnie rolled his eyes, knowing very well that Freddy was assuming the exact same thing he was.

“Yeah yeah,” Bonnie agreed dismissively, waving a hand in the air towards his friend. “Wonder if they skipped the whole day or just this class,” he added thoughtfully, glancing back towards the bear.

“We’ll find out next period,” Freddy told him and Bonnie frowned, looking down towards the reddish-brown track.

“Yeah...” he let his agreement trail off into silence. He hardly even noticed the sight and sound of classmates lapping them.

 _I can’t even predict which one it’ll be,_ he mused unhappily to himself. _Did they skip only certain classes last year? I don’t know... I never paid enough attention... agh, I’m an asshole, aren’t I? I’m the one who started this shitty “let’s make fun of the weird kids!” thing... Freddy probably thinks I’m a hypocrite for being the one to want to stop it... especially when he’s refused to join us this whole time... Jesus Christ, maybe_ I’m _the one who fucked up. Would things be different if I hadn’t started that? Would-_

“Fazbear! Henderson! Pick up the pace!”

The command startled Bonnie out of his guilty thoughts and he looked up, realizing that he had fallen behind Goldie _and_ the two humans. Surprised, both he and Freddy started back into a jog from their fast walk.

_Concentrate on the now, Bonnie. You can play the blame game later._

* * *

“It was ridiculous!” Foxy complained loudly, rubbing the back of his head as they walked down the hall. As usual he didn’t care about the passerby hearing. “Stupid Johnny Carver, he was runnin’ full-speed around the track, not even watchin’ where he was goin’, and he just barrelled into me and knocked us both to the ground, the jackass!”

Bonnie snickered and lightly elbowed his friend. “At least ya didn’t smash your nose on the ground,” he said, and then he added thoughtfully, “Then again, you totally could have gotten to go home for that.”

“You don’t have a concussion, right?” Goldie asked, sounding as though he was fighting between amusement and concern. _Odd, usually that’s Freddy._ He glanced at his golden-furred friend, raising a brow. _Somethin’ must be bothering Goldie._

“They would’a sent me home if I did,” Foxy pointed out amusedly, but he didn’t say anything more as they entered the classroom. None of them did.

All of the humans were already there, but Bonnie was more concerned with the sight of five bright-furred Animals, sitting silently in their desks. He glanced down at Rodriguez as he passed, noting the way the blue rabbit leaned on his hand. His eyes were closed.

As Bonnie slipped into his seat, dropping his bag down beside him, Rodriguez shifted slightly to the right. It was the only indication that he had noticed Bonnie’s presence.

_He probably knew we were coming up the hall._

A quick glance around showed that Rodriguez wasn’t the only one acting strange. Behind him, Salvage had laid his head down on his arms and Fischbach was staring, tense, directly ahead. Something about the way he was sitting bothered Bonnie, so he turned his attention to Kain and Blanc.

The former was sitting, tense, with her ankles crossed underneath her seat, her arms crossed on the desk and her gaze towards the floor. The latter’s gaze was firmly on the window, but they kept shifting in their seat, as if uncomfortable. The fox in question was also fidgeting, much more than Bonnie had seen them do before.

Bonnie frowned as he turned forward again and pulled his notebook out, keeping it in his lap and out of sight. Quickly, he wrote down the date on the next page and started a new list.

_1) Never go to the changing rooms_   
_2) Skipped gym, are in science_   
_3) Acting strange in science; tense, unhappy, tired? Hurt?_

The bell rang and Bonnie flipped the notebook shut, setting it on his desk before placing his binder over it. He glanced to his left to see Chica watching him, brow raised. He just shrugged.

“Alright, class!” Dr. Schmidt called, getting the class’ attention. “Homework!”

The rabbit opened his binder and located the desired packet, not paying his partner any mind in favour of his quest. _Come on, come on, I know you’re here... a-ha!_ Triumphantly, he pulled the packet out and turned around just before Dr. Schmidt said, “Pass it up and I’ll collect it at the front.”

Goldie was still turned around, and Bonnie was about to call his name to get his attention when he realized that neither of the twins were paying their homework any mind.

Rather, they were paying _Fischbach’s_ homework their attention.

Whatever they were looking at was just out of Bonnie’s sight. However, when Fischbach muttered something to Salvage and passed the packet to him, and Salvage turned around, Bonnie saw it- just before it disappeared under Salvage’s own packet.

There was a dark red stain in the packet’s right-hand corner.

A bloodstain.

He watched as the golden rabbit handed the packets over to Rodriguez, and Rodriguez responded by sliding his own under Fischbach’s, effectively hiding the stained pages from sight.

His stomach twisted as he realized that the rabbits were covering for their friend. Quickly, he turned his eyes back to Goldie as the bear turned around and handed the packets to him. Goldie glanced towards the rabbits and, without even thinking about it, Bonnie did too. Then he turned around, finding Dr. Schmidt standing by their desks.

Bonnie obediently handed his row’s packets to Dr. Schmidt. More to check where Rodriguez was looking and see if it was safe to open the notebook again, Bonnie turned to look at his science partner...

And he had something else to write down.

Clenching his teeth and furrowing his brow, he studied the bruise standing out against the rabbit’s bright blue fur. _Now I know why he was leaning on his left hand._

_He was hiding it._

_These_ fuckers...

“Now that we’ve got the homework out of the way, let’s talk about your first lab,” Dr. Schmidt announced, catching everyone’s attention. Reluctantly, Bonnie turned to look at the instructor, his hand tightening on his notebook under his binder.

_Something isn’t okay here._

“You won’t be working on it until Friday,” the Doctor continued, “as today we’ll be doing the lecture first, but in it you will be observing how the steel wool reacts to the fire.”

His stomach twisted, but not at the thought of the lab. No, the lab was laughable; _everyone_ had burned steel wool at that point in school. Across the room he could even hear one of the human girls giggle and whisper to her friend about it. No, that wasn’t at all what made his gut twist, his heart race, his fists clench...

 _How the_ fuck _am I_ just _noticing this? This isn’t something that just develops overnight! We’ve been in the same classes, the same school, the same year for_ twelve years, _are we really that blind?!_

He couldn’t hear Dr. Schmidt, not really. He was going on about the lab, Bonnie knew, but he just couldn’t concentrate.

Bonnie felt like the biggest idiot in the world.

 _Twelve years, and we dismissed it as them being weird. We should have realized- not even Marion Marshal acts like them, and he is_ the _school outcast. We should have known something was wrong here. We should have-_

“Yes, Mr. Salvage?”

Bonnie’s ears twitched, barely registering the name, and he glanced over his shoulder towards the golden rabbit. He looked upset about something; his right hand was being held below Bonnie’s line of sight.

“May I step out for a moment?” Salvage requested, voice wavering somewhat.

“Of course,” Dr. Schmidt allowed, his voice gentle and considerate.

_He knows what it’s about._

Salvage was practically out the door before Bonnie could even register that he’d stood up, and Bonnie just barely caught his, “Hello, this is Spr...” before the door clicked shut behind him.

“Mr. Rodriguez, face the front please,” Dr. Schmidt commanded and Rodriguez obeyed. Bonnie felt a short sense of deja vu. “Let’s go over lab safety now...”

Bonnie promptly tuned out, pulling his binder and notebook into his lap. Using the binder as a block from Rodriguez, he opened the notebook inside the binder to the desired page.

Quickly he scrawled down three more notes.

_4) Fischbach’s hw packet bloodstained, top right corner_   
_5) Rodriguez bruise, left cheek; kinda out of it?_   
_6) Salvage stepped out, taking phone call._

He frowned, trying to think of just _why_ a highschooler might need to answer the phone in the middle of class- in the middle of a lecture, even one as pointless as the one their instructor was giving them. And, clearly, said instructor understood what was happening; he hadn’t even hesitated to cut himself off and let Salvage step out...

Before he could ponder more on it, the door opened again. Glancing up, Bonnie watched the golden rabbit walk over to the Doctor, who had fallen quiet once again.

“I’m sorry,” Salvage was saying softly- too softly for anyone else to pick up on, Bonnie was sure. He twitched his ears, straining to hear. “I need to go pick my brother up, now... it’s an emergency, I won’t be able to make it back before school’s out... it’s an hour away...” Salvage trailed off and Bonnie frowned; why would whoever his brother was with call Salvage and not their parents?

Unless Salvage was his brother’s emergency contact... not their parents. _How’d ya swing that...?_

Glancing down at his list, he added to number six, _Reason: family emergency. Salvage emergency contact for brother? Dr. Schmidt seems to know what it’s about._

When he glanced up, the instructor was back to talking lab safety and Salvage was by his own desk, gathering his belongings together; he knew this as he could hear the rabbit shoving his notebook into his bag.

Heaving a soft sigh (and ignoring the way Dr. Schmidt looked at him), he closed his notebook and kept his eyes trained on the instructor, pointedly ignoring Salvage slip out the door with his belongings.

He _needed_ to talk to the others... but, he realized with a sinking feeling, he wouldn’t get to anytime soon. They still had lunch and afternoon classes.

_Now I know how they feel. Surrounded by people... there’s no way we can have an honestly private conversation._

A brief glance over towards his science partner showed the blue rabbit leaning on his hand again, eyes closed.

Dr. Schmidt said nothing. Neither did Bonnie.

* * *

Once Chica got out of her Spanish class, all five friends made their way to the student parking lot, following along with the crowd. None of them said anything, simply watching as their classmates laughed and ran around carelessly, flirted shamelessly, and acted a lot more immature than they should have.

Bonnie chose not to dwell on the fact that they had been exactly like that in junior year, and they probably would be right then if it weren’t for the heavy, shocking start to their year.

 _Yeah, heavy and shocking, alright... finding out your least favourite people are probably goin’ through enough hell without you tryin’ to add to it,_ he mused bitterly to himself, glancing around as he noticed the crowd spreading and cars leaving. _No wonder we rarely got reactions out of them... We were the least of their problems._

“So,” Foxy drawled boredly, snapping the rabbit out of his thoughts, “Bonnie... Mind telling us what that was about?”

Bonnie blinked. _What_ what _was about? Did you notice my notebook? Er, do you mean the way I was acting at lunch? Or art? Or do you mean in science?_ “What?” he asked with a frown towards his canine friend.

“During science,” Foxy explained, and Bonnie understood.

“Oh.” Foxy wasn’t privy to the bloodstain incident; the only thing he would be asking Bonnie about was Salvage.

For some reason, though, Bonnie didn’t _want_ to tell them. It was a sudden, shocking feeling- not wanting to tell his best friends, his _family,_ about Salvage’s apparent situation. Not wanting to tell them about a brother none of them knew about, about some kind of trouble none of them could possibly understand...

He felt guilty. It wasn’t his place to tell them, but he couldn’t keep a secret from them.

Finally, he settled on saying, “He apparently had a family emergency and had to go pick someone up.” He shrugged, glancing aside before continuing, “Apparently it was an hour away, so there was no way he would make it back to school for the rest of classes.”

Remembering the smaller note that he had written down, he added, “It sounded like he already had an arrangement with the school. Dr. Schmidt looked and sounded like he already knew what was going on the moment he saw Salvage’s hand.”

“He was holding his phone,” Goldie put in abruptly, prompting Bonnie to look at him. He barely noticed when they passed a gaggle of junior varsity cheerleaders and footballers. “I heard it vibrate but he had it out of sight before I could actually _see_ it.”

So Goldie didn’t know _who_ had called. _It was probably a school..._

“So Salvage had to leave for a family emergency,” Chica summarized as she stopped beside the van’s left back door, Foxy behind her. “That makes sense. But what was up with y’all at the very start?” she added, looking towards the twins and Bonnie. “Freddy, ya looked like someone just keeled over and died right in front of ya.”

Bonnie watched as the bears chorused, “Might as well have.” Goldie proceeded to unlock the van’s doors while Freddy suddenly looked around, scanning their surroundings. The rabbit was struck by just how much the action reminded him of Salvage.

When Freddy spoke again, his voice had dropped down into a whisper; clearly whatever he was saying, he didn’t want to be overheard. Of course, considering that was the entire reason they hadn’t talked about it yet...

“There was a bloodstain on Fischbach’s homework,” Freddy informed the fox and chicken, both of whom frowned at the news. “Tried to excuse it as ketchup.”

Bonnie watched his friends exchange a worried glance, but before any of them could continue the clear sound of laughter reached their ears. Freddy’s mouth snapped shut and Goldie cleared his throat, prompting all of them to look towards him. Once he had their attention, he said, “I don’t think a parking lot is the best place for this conversation.”

As Goldie gestured to the van, Bonnie opened the door and climbed in.

“Anyone could overhear us out there, ya know,” Goldie said to them as he slid in, and Bonnie glanced forward in time to see the junior varsity players pass by.

“Yeah,” he agreed needlessly, buckling his seatbelt. “So Salvage had to run out in the middle of class, Fischbach’s homework was bloodstained, and Rodriguez had a big ugly bruise on his face,” he summarized, bitterness slipping into his tone. “Anything up with Kain and Blanc today?” He looked over towards Chica beside him and glanced towards Foxy, sitting in the backseat, as he leaned forward.

Foxy scowled, though he didn’t look directly at Bonnie. “Blanc wouldn’t sit still,” he said, shrugging slightly. “They were really out of it, too. Only tuned in long enough to watch Salvage leave and went right back to starin’ out the window.”

“Kain didn’t do much,” Chica answered with a half-hearted shrug of her own. She glanced up, a frown on her face. “Kinda just sat there, starin’ at her desk. Seemed tense but nothin’ really _off,_ per se.”

Bonnie wasn’t sure he agreed with that, but he didn’t really know enough about the other chicken to say rightly that that was unusual. Then again, neither did Chica.

“Still think we’re misunderstandin’ the situation?” Freddy questioned from the front passenger seat. Bonnie felt more than a little validated when dead silence met the question.

Goldie finally pulled out of the parking lot and headed to the Fazbears’ home, his hands clutching the steering wheel tighter than necessary. The silence was tense and heavy because _how_ could any of them deny something was going on?

“There’s always a chance,” Goldie finally said, his voice shattering the silence. However, his voice was full of doubt; clearly he didn’t believe his own words. He added, “But I don’t think we are... not anymore, anyway...”

His voice trailed off, and Bonnie knew the sentiment was echoed by Chica and Foxy. They weren’t saying as much but clearly they were thinking it, if the way the fox’s eyes glued to the floorboard and Chica’s gaze stayed outside was anything to go by.

Finally, though, Chica said, “I don’t think we know _exactly_ what’s going on.” She glanced around as the others, minus Goldie, turned to look at her. “I honestly don’t think there’s one flat answer to this, guys. Somethin’s goin’ on but I just don’t think we have the full story.”

She was right, Bonnie knew; there was something wrong, but they weren’t exactly exhibiting the same signs. _Then again..._ He frowned. “It’s only the third day of school,” he pointed out, then hesitated. _Twelve years._ “The third day we’re actually paying any attention, anyway,” he amended.

“We’re bound to notice something if there’s anything else,” Chica finished the thought, and Bonnie nodded thoughtfully in agreement. It was true; they _would_ notice.

They were being forced to interact with them, after all. It wasn’t like their classmates could hide it from them.

“Maybe we should talk to them about it?” Freddy suggested hesitantly, and Bonnie’s eyes snapped up front to him, slightly shocked.

 _Talk to them? That could go wrong in a number of ways..._ But it wasn’t a bad idea.

However, Bonnie doubted the first _civil_ conversation they should have with said classmates should be about their suspicions. That would cause the students to close off faster than their silent snooping would.

“What?!” Foxy squealed, his voice almost-amusingly high pitched from shock. Clearly he disagreed completely. _“Talk_ to them about it? Are you _crazy,_ Fazbear?! It’s one thing watchin’ ‘em from a distance but actually gettin’ _involved-_ at that point we might as well just call the cops!”

Bonnie frowned- another good point. _Actually, why aren’t we just doing that?_

“We can’t,” Goldie stated, as if answering Bonnie’s unasked question. His tone was flat and harsh, a tone Bonnie wasn’t familiar with from the golden bear. “We’re on unfamiliar ground, Foxy. Besides, I don’t think you call up the cops to say “I think one of my classmates is gettin’ knocked around” or somethin’.”

“The CPS,” Chica put in dully, knowing perfectly well how that would go over. Bonnie frowned.

“They _usually_ give prior warning,” he dismissed, looking away and out the window. _Which is stupid; if you suspect someone of abuse why would you warn them that you’re comin’ to investigate? Fucktards..._ Of course, he had a feeling the parents were the least of the worries- they didn’t even know if it _was_ the parents in the first place.

The image of Salvage and Rodriguez slipping a bloodstained packet between their own came to mind. Yes, Bonnie knew, it wasn’t the parents _or_ abusers- _if they’re even separate people-_ that they needed to worry about. He glanced back towards his friends. “They’re not good at hidin’ it but I get the feelin’ they’re damn good at hidin’ the _tracks.”_

“Then what _can_ we do? We _can’t_ talk to them,” Foxy insisted, scowling sharply. “One, we don’t like them. Two, they don’t like us. Three, we _still_ don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on.”

_The only way to find out is to get them to tell us._

It crossed his mind before he could even register it forming. _The only way to find out for sure what’s going on is for them to tell us... and the only way to get them to tell us is to earn their trust._

The thought made him feel... squeamish. It sounded a lot like _befriending_ the students that they had been antagonizing since _middle school._

“It wouldn’t kill us to be more friendly towards them,” Freddy stated, his tone somewhat clipped. He had, unknowingly, voiced exactly what Bonnie had been thinking.

_Be more friendly towards them._

“Besides,” the bear continued, sounding somewhat defensive, “ _I_ don’t dislike them, _I’ve_ always been neutral on this subject. The only reason _they_ don’t like _us_ is because you lot all started actin’ aggressive towards them. I clearly remember them bein’ neutral about us until they finally noticed.”

_Geez, Freddy, just shove that guilt stake deeper, why don’t’cha._

“Arguin’ won’t do us any good,” Chica interrupted before Foxy could respond. “How about this, let’s compromise.”

 _Compromise._ “Compromise?” he parroted, his tone turning harsh. _Compromise about someone’s safety and very life?!_ “What’s there to _compromise_ about? Someone’s gettin’ hurt, when someone’s hurt you fucking _help_ them, whether you like them or not!”

“Has it occurred to you that the best way to _help_ may be to _not_ get involved?” Chica shot at him, frowning. Bonnie scowled because _that makes no damn sense._ “They’re always together, clearly they’re just as close as us five are. They don’t need us when they have each other.”

_They don’t need us when they have each other._

Bonnie stared at Chica, for a moment completely unable to comprehend what she was saying. _Do you even hear yourself?_

“Oh yeah,” he snorted, but it wasn’t in amusement; it was in disbelief. “Yeah, let Rodriguez rely on Fischbach, both of whom have _bled_ in the last three days,” he said, forcing his tone to be chipper and blunt. “Or better yet, let them rely on Blanc- the kid who barely pays any attention to where they’re going. Or Salvage, who’s apparently having family problems and is having to play the role of _parent_ already.”

“Bonnie,” Chica started, her tone warning, but Bonnie didn’t give her a chance to continue.

He dropped his chipper, “agreeable” tone to level his friend with steely red eyes, and he growled out through clenched teeth, “Their foundation is unstable, Chica. Face it.” Before anyone could question his meaning, he added, “What happens to houses built on unstable foundations? They _collapse._ ”

Chica scowled at him. “These are people, Bonnie, not houses-”

“What happens if Rodriguez gets killed, Chica?” Bonnie interrupted, staring her down. The fact that they were talking about _people_ and not _houses_ made the situation much more serious in Bonnie’s opinion- because they were all depending on each other, not on themselves. “Or Fischbach- or _any_ of them? What then? If it takes all _five_ of them to be an _unstable_ foundation, what happens when _one_ of them falls?” He didn’t give her, or the others, a chance to answer. “They _all_ fall, that’s what!”

The silence following his words was just as tense and heavy as the silence in his bedroom just two days before. He knew the real meaning behind his words were slowly sinking in, Chica’s magenta eyes never leaving his crimson.

Unsurprisingly, it was Foxy who spoke up next.

“You don’t know that,” Foxy mumbled, though his voice held no conviction. “You’re suggestin’ things again, Bonnie. Things that might not be true at all.”

“They’re troubled,” Goldie added as he pulled into the driveway, “but they’re not... _that_ troubled, are they?”

“We don’t know,” Freddy answered simply, unbuckling his seatbelt. Bonne watched him, frowning. “The simple fact of the matter is _we don’t know._ And that’s a problem.”

_It is._

Freddy seemed to hesitate before turning and scanning over all of their faces, frowning at each of them. Bonnie felt completely incapable of speaking in that moment.

A decision was being made.

_The only way to get them to tell us is to earn their trust._

_To become someone they can rely on._

“I don’t know about you,” Freddy started, watching them all, “but I don’t want to keep being one more crack in their foundation.” Freddy’s blue eyes flicked over to Bonnie. “If their foundation, as Bonnie is suggesting, is unstable and _breaking...”_ he paused, as if unsure of what he was about to say. “I don’t want to be the thing that breaks it.”

With that, Freddy opened the door and slid out. The silence his departure left was almost suffocating, and after several seconds of silence, just watching Freddy make his way towards the house, Bonnie hit the release button on his own buckle.

He slid the door open and glanced back at his friends. He wasn’t sure what _their_ choice would be- but he knew what his own was. He was glad that he wasn’t alone, though.

“I don’t either.”

Hitching his bag and guitar case up, he slid out of the van and followed Freddy. Even if Chica, Foxy, and Goldie kept their distance, he knew there was one person on his side. One person who couldn’t just watch their classmates fall, no matter what history they had. At least one other person who wanted to help.

_Earn their trust and become someone they can rely on, huh..._


	7. Clarity of a Muddled Mind, Blu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’know, because their home lives are really important to this story I would love to make Blu and Mangle’s (and Chica’s) characters more, uh… real, I guess, and actually use French and Spanish since those are the languages they speak at home… y’know, instead of saying “he said in Spanish,” because really, does that feel real at all? Unfortunately... I only speak English and am in the process of learning German (I can understand very basic German and read it pretty proficiently but writing it and speaking it I can’t do) and the only friend I have that speaks Spanish fluently... doesn’t really like FNaF. At all. In faaact she, uh, kinda hates it. 
> 
> I don’t want to butcher the languages by using Translate so I’m just gonna stick with this for now. Maybe in the future, if I ever believe I’m proficient enough in either of these languages or have someone to help, I’ll come back and change it (and have translations in the notes in the bottom), but until then... yeah.

He stared at himself in the mirror, gingerly poking at the fresh bruise on his left cheek. The rabbit wanted to cry; he had absolutely no way to cover that, as none of the makeup he owned was _nearly_ dark enough, and the ugly shade of purple was clearly showing through his fur.

What made everything worse was the fact that it was Wednesday... meaning he had science again. And with science came his nosy, possibly-suspicious lab partner.

There was absolutely no way the other rabbit wouldn’t notice the bruise, what with how he was watching Blu the days before in every class they had together. Which, as it turned out, was _most._

(Thankfully, in all of them, they were on opposite sides of the classroom. Thank you alphabetical seating charts!)

The only classes they _didn’t_ have together, so far, have been their first and last periods- for Mondays _and_ Tuesdays. Who knew what Friday would be like- Spring had managed to swing it so they had tutoring during the first and second periods of the day. _Then again, knowing our luck, those bastards will be the fucking tutors._

_If there’s a god, he must be laughing it up right about now. Dammit._

Everywhere he turned at school, at least _one_ of the Fazcrew were there- and, more often than not, it was the one with the sharpest hearing. He wouldn’t have been surprised if, during the two class periods he _didn’t_ have with them, they were just around the corner from his classroom. Blu was too nervous to even discuss issues with his friends at school, worried that the rabbit would be listening even from across a loud, crowded room.

And it was only the third day of school. _Damn rabbit ears._

Wincing, he let his hand fall away from the bruise and leaned his forehead against the mirror. When his mother had burst into his bedroom last night, demanding to know where he’d been that afternoon, he had expected a claw to the arm or a yank on the ear, maybe even to be thrown into the wall again. He had _not_ been expecting her to throw the heavy wooden bowl she was holding at him and he _definitely_ had not been expecting her to follow it up by hitting him, hard, in the face.

Thankfully the bruise and slight bump from the bowl was hidden under the thick fur falling over his forehead, but his head hurt and he couldn’t even play his guitar as it only made it worse.

_Looks like there’s not gonna be any practice this morning._

The only silver lining he could find in this situation was that he didn’t have any blood to clean up. Heaving a sigh, he flipped the mirror around so that he was no longer looking at himself. Sometimes he really hated the sight of himself; it just reminded him of everything he wasn’t.

Everything _they_ hated him for.

Outside of his door he could hear his father pacing. He could tell it was his father; his boots made a strange _clip_ sound against the wooden floor, as though some of the padding was missing and bare plastic was hitting the ground. _Why does he wear boots inside anyway..._ He’d been out there all night, pacing back and forward, as if trying to decide what to do... or making sure Blu didn’t leave.

The anxiety his presence caused, mixed with the pain in his head, had kept the blue rabbit up all night for the third night in a row... not counting the nap he’d gotten over at Spring’s house the afternoon before. _I need some proper sleep..._

Taking a deep breath, Blu stood up straight and flipped the mirror around again, hoping against hope that he would see something he hadn’t before- some way he could hide it. However, whatever way he looked at it, the bruise stood out... and even he could see how _tired_ he looked. _Maybe I should crash somewhere else tonight, actually get some sleep..._

He knew Spring wouldn’t protest him staying the night, but Blu hated feeling like he was, well, _using_ his “more fortunate” friend, as others would put it. _Yeah, really fucking fortunate indeed- depressed with a broken family, having to be a father-figure to his own brother, having to deal with all those different step-fathers... his own father... November..._

Pushing the thoughts away, he roughly flipped the mirror over again and turned away, looking at his belongings. It was almost pathetic- well, no almost about it. _Still need to do laundry._ He could ponder on that later, he decided, taking the three steps over to his bed.

For now, he needed to get to school. Headache or not, Henderson or not, misery or not, school was _so_ much more preferable to the place he had always called “home.”

After all, school was where his friends would be.

Grabbing his bag, his phone, and then his guitar case, he flicked the lights off and headed towards the window as he did every morning. As if hearing his feet against the wooden floorboards, the footsteps outside his door paused and the doorknob rattled. Blu silently snarled, but he knew it was locked and the rabbit outside was stuck there, the door acting as a barrier between the blue rabbit and his father.

“Don’t you go anywhere,” he heard the man growl out in Spanish, voice not very well muffled by the thin walls. Blu opened the window and dropped his bag and guitar case outside onto the fire escape, glaring darkly at the door. “Open this door _right now_ _,_ Bonito Rodriguez _._ ”

 _Fuck no_ _,_ Blu snorted silently, throwing a middle finger up towards the door before climbing out of the window, carefully placing his feet against the metal grating so as not to make a sound.

It occurred to him, not for the first time, that he could just simply _not_ return _ever..._ but...

_No. They’d find me eventually._

Swiftly, he shut the window, hitched his guitar case and bag back up onto his shoulder, and hurried down the fire escape. Oh he’d receive _hell_ for doing this later, but he just needed to escape for now. He could deal with the consequences _tomorrow._ When everything seemed alright again.

He cleared his mind as he walked through the dim morning towards Chii’s house, just as he had done every day since highschool first began. He didn’t want to think about anything, so instead he focused his tired eyes on the little traffic there was at that hour.

Logically, he knew he shouldn’t go to school at all; his bones ached and his head was throbbing, his eyes burning from the lack of sleep. He would slip up- he couldn’t think very well and he definitely wouldn’t be able to pay attention... but he at least needed to turn his homework in.

He wouldn’t get any sleep in his bedroom anyway, he reasoned. The choice was either go to school and get no sleep or stay home, get no sleep, and probably get clawed or hit again...

Scratch that, there wasn’t any choice at all.

* * *

They didn’t ask about it but he knew they were concerned. He could see it in their eyes, the way they fidgeted and looked at him, the way they frowned and shared worried glances, the way that they were careful when touching him as they were unsure where else he might have been hurting.

They didn’t ask and Blu didn’t tell.

He skipped gym. They skipped with him, hiding out behind the gymnasium like a group of delinquents as they always did when they skipped classes. It was surprisingly easy to do, due to how far from the school the gymnasium was built. It was right next to the woods.

Blu dropped down in the grass, back pressed against the brick wall and staring out into the woods just twenty yards away. They were out of sight of the school, the windows, the parking lots, the sports fields, and the track. It was isolated and the perfect place to be alone.

Well, as alone as they ever were. Chii sat down on his left while Mangle settled down on his right, Alfred and Spring settling into the grass in front of him so they were in a sort of deformed circle.

Now, away from prying eyes, they could finally talk.

“What happened last night, Blu?” Spring asked gently, letting the concern in his voice speak for itself.

Sighing, Blu told them, “Mother barged into my bedroom, yelled some, threw a wooden bowl at my head and then hit me.” It was short, bitter, and to the point. “On the bright side, no blood last night. Just a horrible headache and I ache everywhere, but I’ll be fine when I get some sleep.”

His friends shared a frown. “When was the last time you slept?” Mangle dared to question, looking at him again.

Blu gave a small, dismissive shrug, glancing up. “Uh, yesterday at Spring’s house,” he answered, but he knew it wouldn’t fly; napping and sleeping weren’t quite the same.

“No, _real_ sleep. Like... a full night’s sleep. Dreams and all.”

“Ah, um,” Blu hummed, frowning himself. _Oh they are not gonna like this._ “Saturday night I think?”

“You need to sleep,” Chii gasped, clearly horrified at his revelation. “That’s not good for you, you could pass out!”

“I’ll sleep tonight,” Blu assured her, “even if I have to go to the old fort.”

That wasn’t the right thing to say, he realized. Spring’s brow furrowed and he frowned, clearly worried, and the others stared at him with wide, surprised eyes. Spring started, “The old fort? We haven’t been there in nearly six years, Blu, it’s a deathtrap now...” Then he seemed to realize something and his eyes widened in horror. “Oh my god, _please_ tell me you haven’t been running off there by yourself, Blu...”

He couldn’t deny it and his emerald eyes said as much as he glanced away guiltily. Quickly, seeing the way his friends were looking at him, he added, “It’s not often! J-just when I can’t stand staying home and, I just- I don’t want to bother you guys all of the time...”

That was still the wrong thing to say.

“Blu, you know you can always come to my house,” Spring told him, distraught. “Anything could have happened at that old treehouse, Blu- you could have fallen through the floor and broken your neck and we wouldn’t have even _thought_ to look there for you...!”

Spring was freaking out, he realized. _No no, please, I’m sorry, don’t freak out...!_

“Spring,” Alfred spoke up warningly, reaching over to lightly touch the rabbit’s shoulder. “He’s fine.”

“But anything could have happened...”

“But it didn’t,” Alfred stated simply, shaking his head and turning to Blu before adding, “But it would... be... best to... not go there.” The words were forced and Blu wanted to cry; he made Spring freak out and Alfred was forcing himself to speak. His thoughtless admission caused his friends some sort of pain.

He never wanted to be a source of their pain.

“Next time please come to me instead,” Spring practically begged, worry clear on his face. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t care if it’s one in the morning, just don’t go _there_ again.”

 _You already do so much for all of us, I can’t ask for more,_ Blu thought miserably as he simply nodded an agreement. He didn’t promise, though.

He didn’t make promises that he didn’t intend to keep.

“How are all of you holding up?” he asked instead, glancing around at his friends. Mangle looked away, their hands going to their thighs, and Chii shifted slightly in her spot, crossing her shins one over the other. Alfred’s ears twitched and his eyes trailed towards the ground and Spring’s ears simply flopped.

 _Not good._ Apparently last night was rough for everyone, not just Blu.

He had so been hoping at least one of them had had a decent night, and then they could have focused on that instead.

“I, uh... forgot to take my medicine this morning.” Before any of them could ask _why_ he would forget something so _important,_ Spring explained, “Plushie had the nightmare man dream again.” As the golden rabbit spoke, his hand instinctively began rubbing against his chest. Blu winced, ears flattening.

“The nightmare man” was the code for Plushie’s biological father. Spring just simply couldn’t bring himself to say the man’s real name. None of them could blame him, though, not after everything he had done to the golden brothers. He was gone before Plushie was three, but even the little rabbit kit had memories of him. Sometimes Blu had a feeling that that man was the reason Plushie suffered so much... and maybe even part of the reason _Spring_ suffered so much.

He shoved the thoughts aside in favor of turning to the others.

“Charlie came into my room again,” Chii admitted softly, her hands balling up into fists in her lap. _That explains why she’s wearing baggy sweats today._ “Tried to... I... it doesn’t matter,” she chose to say, looking away from them. None of them pushed her to continue speaking and none of them tried to reach out to comfort her; they knew she would flinch away and ask them not to.

She was humiliated- not because she was admitting it to them but because it happened in the first place. It wasn’t her fault but she would always feel like it was, no matter how many years had already passed since it first began happening. That fact made him _very_ upset... because he knew there was no way he could even begin to help her.

“My parents got mad when I tried to... _refuse,_ ” Mangle mumbled, staring at the ground and refusing to look up at them. “Grabbed the switch and... well, I won’t be wearing shorts for a while.”

The fox shifted in their spot and Blu glanced aside sadly, frowning. Mangle was in pain, too, and still they had been more concerned about _him._ Blu felt more than a little guilty about it.

His situation wasn’t good but he counted his lucky stars that he wasn’t in Mangle’s shoes. And, yet again, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Alfred was the only one who hadn’t said anything, but Blu knew _something_ happened by the way the bear shifted and settled his gaze past Spring on the trees curving around the campus. They all waited patiently for him to be ready to speak up.

It was several moments of silence, them just listening to the wind in the trees, before he finally turned to them and answered. “Dad hit me with a bottle again. In the back and shoulder.” As if to prove it to them, he carefully rolled his red tee-shirt’s sleeve up, pulling it over his shoulder where a _very_ red bandage was wrapped tightly. Blu wondered how he managed to do it by himself. “It... wasn’t close to empty.”

That received a cringe from them all. It was bad enough getting hit with and cut up by a beer bottle, but to have that happen while, simultaneously, _alcohol_ spills all over the fresh, glass-filled wounds? It made Blu’s skin crawl... not from imagining it, but because he’d been there before.

Blood and beer mixing together made a very distinct colour. Blu imagined it was the colour of pain.

“Don’t think I got all the glass out,” Alfred confessed, pulling his sleeve back down. “Won’t stop bleeding.”

 _And hurting._ That much was clear in the way his voice wavered, in the way his gaze strayed. Blu hung his head and drew his knees up to his forehead. He was sleep deprived and clearly bruised but at least he didn’t have cuts from a full bottle of beer or thin, painful switch marks on his thighs.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighed sullenly. “Why is it always this way...” None of them had an answer, of course. The only thing Blu could think of, though, was, _Life is unfair._

“I’ll check for glass for you,” Spring offered softly to Alfred, clearly worried about their friend.

“Not right now,” the bear rejected. “Later.”

_When we’re at Spring’s house. When there’s no chance of being seen._

Blu looked up, noticing Spring frowning softly at all of them. _This can’t be good for him..._ Blu straightened up and breathed out through his nose. “Well,” he started, “I think all of us deserve a lazy afternoon.”

“We’re not skipping the rest of school,” Spring immediately warned. “We need to save our days for big emergencies.”

“I actually meant _after_ school,” Blu informed him with a small grin. “Come on, we have art in the afternoon, like I’m gonna suggest skipping out on that.” But the thought of skipping music- well, his head was pounding with every word any of them said. _Skipping music might be best for me right now._

Blu pulled his phone out to check the time. There were still about fifteen minutes before the bell would ring. “Then again I might just crash right after school...”

“If you make it to after school,” Mangle put in, sighing as they shifted again, trying desperately to get comfortable. “Honestly, maybe you should check out...”

“And go where?” Blu scoffed, leaning back against the gym’s bricks. “Besides, I can’t even check myself out, I’m not eighteen. Can’t go to the nurse, she’ll call my parents...” _If not the police, anyway._

He couldn’t let _that_ happen. _I will_ not _be put in the system at seventeen goddamned years old. I’ve lasted this long, I can last nine more months._

_I will not be separated from my friends. They need me._

They all fell into a short silence, Blu staring up towards the sky. It was cloudy, as though it was going to storm later on, but he didn’t mind. The air was warm and the breeze was cool against his fur.

In the distance he heard thunder. _Oh yeah, definitely a storm._

“I wonder what we’ll do in art today,” Chii mused, clearly looking for something to chase away the awkward silence. “I seriously hope it’s not holding a pencil again.”

“With how bad everyone was at it, it probably will be,” Mangle snorted. “I don’t think anyone got it.”

“It’s not that hard,” Blu started, shaking his head. “They just need to practice with it some. Besides, Marion Marshal was already sketching out scenes. I think he already knew this.”

“Who knows,” Chii sighed, stretching her arms up above her head. “Think we should start heading in? The bell will ring soon.”

“And a storm’s coming,” Spring added, glancing up at the darker clouds on the horizon. “Driving out to pick Plushie up will not be fun...”

With a soft sigh, Blu climbed up to his feet. “I imagine not,” he agreed quietly. “And the drive back even less.”

They all were silent for a few moments before, carefully, they all stood to their feet. “Come on,” Mangle sighed, turning to walk around the gym. “Time to head to hell, guys.”

Blu stuck his tongue out in mock disgust but followed, rubbing his hand tiredly across his face. He winced, though, as he brushed over the bruise on his cheek. “I thought we just escaped hell, Mangle.”

“The other hell.”

* * *

They were in the classroom before anyone else, having been waiting outside as the bell ending second period rang. They watched the class before them file out before stepping inside, hardly glancing up at Dr. Schmidt as he settled behind his desk, and Blu slid into his seat, laying his head down on his arms.

“Take your bag off at least, Blu,” Spring chuckled humourlessly. Blu gave a mocking little whine but did as he was told, sitting up long enough to slip the straps down and dropped it next to his desk. A quick glance around showed that Spring and Alfred had taken their own seats while Chii and Mangle both leaned against the wall, neither willing to sit in the Fazcrew’s seats.

There was nothing any of them could actually _say,_ though. Blu turned around in his seat, studying his friends silently: Spring was leaning on his hand, staring down at his desk with tired, dull eyes; Alfred was sitting, tense and stone-faced, not moving a muscle so as not to aggravate his wound; Mangle was shifting from foot to foot seemingly nervously, their gaze on the windows across the room; and Chii stood against the wall, back straight and heels together with her hands folded, tightly, in front of her.

 _There’s no way we can act “natural” today,_ he thought miserably, turning back around and leaning on his left hand, purposefully blocking the bruise from sight. Applying pressure was incredibly uncomfortable, but at least it would avoid awkward questions as the other students filed in.

Speaking of the other students, Marion walked silently through the door, hardly glancing at Blu as he did. Neither said or did anything to acknowledge one another as the human made his way to his desk in the back. Two more humans followed not even half a minute later, their loud speaking and laughter sending a spike of pain through Blu’s head. Next to the door, above Blu’s desk, the clock’s ticking sounded like thunder in his ears.

Then he could hear _their_ voices echoing down the hallway. He closed his eyes and let out a breath. They were being loud.

 _I’m gonna fuckin’_ die _if they keep talking like that._

Of course he knew that was an exaggeration, he wouldn’t _literally_ die, but as the Fazcrew approached the classroom and their voices got louder, it certainly _felt_ like his head was about to explode. Still, he did his best to keep his face neutral.

Behind him Spring shifted and Blu could hear Chii and Mangle walking away from the wall and towards their desks. Clearly they wanted to be seated before their science partners entered and made things awkward.

Blu didn’t open his eyes even as the voices reached the room. He didn’t open his eyes as the group of friends passed in front of his desk and he still didn’t open his eyes as the taller rabbit sat in the desk next to him. He did, however, shift slightly away; he was leaning on his _left_ hand, meaning he was leaning way too close to Henderson for either of their comfort.

When the bell rang, it was _agony._

“Alright, class! Homework!” Dr. Schmidt called immediately, not wasting any time on greetings. Blu let out a soft sigh and sat up, dropping his hand down on his desk as he turned to yank the zipper on his bag open. It took him only a moment to locate the packet sticking out of his binder, and without hesitating he pulled it out and dropped it on his desk.

There was no reason to be nervous about someone seeing his _homework,_ after all.

“Pass it up and I’ll collect it at the front,” Dr. Schmidt commanded, and Blu twisted slightly in his seat to look at Spring and Alfred.

Immediately he noticed something was wrong. Alfred had a strange expression on his face- _not a strange expression, an_ alarmed _expression-_ as he stared at his packet. And Fazbear’s alarm was _much_ more clear as he, too, looked at the packet, blue eyes wide in shock- or maybe it was horror.

Or maybe it was both.

Alfred muttered something to Spring as he passed the packet forwards and as Blu caught the red staining the top right corner of the packet, he understood.

_Alfred was looking over it when his dad attacked him._

Blu was unable to catch whatever it was Alfred told Spring, but he had a feeling whatever he said was actually meant for Fazbear. An excuse. Something like Hawaiian Punch or ketchup. Something- _anything-_ but blood.

When the golden rabbit turned to Blu, his expression twisted into concern as he slid Alfred’s packet beneath his own. Spring’s brighter green eyes met Blu’s emerald just a second before Blu took the pages from his hand and turned back around.

_He looks so distraught... he so does not need this right now..._

Blu slid his own packet _beneath_ Alfred’s, so that Alfred’s packet was hidden from sight on both the top and bottom.

It was still noticeable, but only if someone was looking for it.

Unfortunately, Blu knew, at least _one_ of the Fazcrew _were_ looking for it. He’d already seen it. And maybe his brother had too- he had still been turned around, after all.

As Dr. Schmidt took the pages up, quirking an eyebrow at Blu as his eyes glanced over the bruise, Blu wondered what he would do or say. Would he ask Alfred about it or just make assumptions, he wondered. Other teachers had asked and other teachers had simply accepted the typical excuses.

_I spilled my drink. I accidentally cut my hand while doing it. I dropped ketchup on it. It’s just sauce._

His gaze followed Dr. Schmidt down the front row and to his desk, ignoring the way Henderson turned to look at him. He pretended not to notice those red eyes zero in on the bruise, pretended not to notice as the rabbit’s brow scrunched up, the way his jaw clenched.

 _I wonder how easy it’d be to fool everyone into thinking I just fell. I mean, it’s not like it’s obvious I was_ hit, _right?_

“Now that we’ve got the homework out of the way, let’s talk about your first lab,” Dr. Schmidt announced, drawing everyone’s attention to the front. Blu tried his best to focus, but all he could really hear was the blood rushing past his ears. “You won’t be working on it until Friday, as today we’ll be doing the lecture first, but in it you will be observing how the...”

The voice was drowned out by the pain and the blood and the ticking of the clock. Nervously Blu began fidgeting, his hand grasping at his wrist instinctively as he stared at Dr. Schmidt, trying so hard to at least look like he understood. _I’ll have to get Spring to give me the rundown later._ Twitching his ears, Blu forced himself to listen to at least try and catch the gist of the experiment.

“...and why the steel wool...”

_Oh. That experiment. Really? That’s freshman stuff..._

“Yes, Mr. Salvage?”

Blu blinked and sat up a little straighter. _Spring?_

“May I step out for a moment?” Spring asked meekly and Blu looked behind him; something in Spring’s voice said that something was wrong. In the golden rabbit’s right hand he held his phone, just out of sight of the Fazcrew. It was lit up, _East Preston Academy_ clearly displayed on the screen.

_Plushie._

Blu felt his heart clench; Spring did _not_ need this. Not right now, not when he hadn’t taken his medicine, not when all of them were miserable and hurting.

“Of course,” Dr. Schmidt allowed, his gentle voice confirming to Blu that he understood what was happening. The golden rabbit was up in a flash, hitting answer before he was even out of the room.

“Hello, this is Spr...” Blu managed to catch before the door closed, cutting Spring’s words off. Blu looked back at Alfred. The bear was frowning and fidgeting with his pen, ears slightly lowered.

“Mr. Rodriguez, face the front please,” Dr. Schmidt called and Blu obediently turned around. “Let’s go over lab safety now. No baggy clothes, no open-toed shoes, no long hair, gloves are to be worn, goggles...”

Blu stared blankly at Dr. Schmidt, losing track of what he was saying. _Everyone knows lab safety, doc. We’re seniors. We’ve_ had _labs before. Oh please just shut up, sir, please..._

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the door opened again. His green eyes snapped over to the golden rabbit as he approached their instructor, and he strained his ears in order to hear what Spring was saying to the human.

“... need to go... emergency...” was all the blue rabbit could pick up on through the rushing past his ears and the ticking of the clock. He hated the fact that Henderson probably heard more than he had.

“Very well,” Dr. Schmidt responded, a bit louder than Spring had. He picked a packet and a single sheet of paper off of his desk and handed them over to the golden rabbit. “I expect these to be done by Friday, Mr. Salvage.”

Spring nodded in understanding and made his way to his desk, clutching the papers in his hand. He and Blu’s eyes met, and in that moment Blu knew for absolute certain that it wasn’t good. At all.

“I’ll explain later,” Spring told him softly as he passed, kneeling down and sliding the papers into his bookbag. Dr. Schmidt continued speaking but Blu paid him no mind. “See you guys after school...”

“Good luck,” Alfred offered just as quietly so Dr. Schmidt wouldn’t hear them. Blu glanced over his shoulder at Spring as the golden rabbit nodded to their friend and headed towards the door, hand gripping his bookbag strap too tightly.

Blu watched him until the door closed, then he let out a soft sigh and leaned on his hand, closing his eyes. If Dr. Schmidt noticed, he didn’t say anything.

Maybe, Blu mused, maybe the doctor knew he _couldn’t_ pay attention. Maybe the doctor realized something was up with him, too.

_Maybe my entire life is just one big fuck-up._

* * *

 “He had a nightmare during the class nap.” That was Spring’s answer to what had happened earlier- not that any of them had expected any less. Blu stared at the passing scenery; the radio was on, trying to fight against the tense air, but all of them were silent, allowing Spring to explain what happened. “I knew he would... he woke up screaming and crying. Scared the other children half to death and it took his teacher ten minutes to calm him down enough to call me...”

“Why was he at school if you knew he would have a nightmare?” Chii asked softly, gently.

“He begged me to let him go... I think... he wanted to try and be normal,” Spring admitted, his voice fading. “I’m scared he might feel lonely and isolated... I just... He...”

The golden rabbit was struggling and Blu could tell despite not looking at him. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool glass, enjoying the way it felt against his warm fur and warmer skin. Even as he sat there, he felt his bones weighing him down, the ache burrowing deep into his soul.

_Eesh, I’m gettin' poetic here..._

“I don’t know what to do anymore...”

“It’ll be alright, Spring,” Chii was trying to assure the golden rabbit, keeping her voice gentle. “He’s gotta grow up sometime...”

“But he doesn’t have to grow up alone,” Spring argued softly, so soft that Blu barely heard him over the pounding in his head. “We already did that... _I_ grew up so he wouldn’t _have_ to do that.”

“Spring, he has to get to know other people now. The only way he won’t...”

The voice faded out as Blu’s consciousness finally slipped away from him, not even the sounds of the cars whistling past penetrating the exhausted rabbit’s sleep. There were no dreams- just a peaceful, calming darkness where his pains all disappeared, like nothing more than a flitter of a memory.

When he woke up later that night, the lights were out and he was lying curled up between Spring and Alfred. Listening to their steady breathing, he closed his eyes and nuzzled back into the “nest” of blankets and pillows piled up on Spring’s bedroom floor. There would be hell to pay when he returned home the next day, but he just wanted to sleep.

For the moment, he felt safe.


	8. A Grim Realization, Bonnie

Bonnie had never noticed just how annoyingly  _ crowded _ the hallways were between classes before. Not for the first time he shoved someone out of his way, more than a little irritated. Of course, not  _ all _ of his irritation came from the crowded hallways; he’d been thinking about  _ it _ for ages now- constantly, even when he was sitting in his bedroom playing his guitar.

That stupid bruise and disoriented gaze was stuck in his head and it was making him  _ mad. _

_ How are we even supposed to do this? We have to but can we even manage it? They hate us. They have a  _ very _ low opinion of us. How are we supposed to turn around the last few years of our lives? Ugh... how do we even start? _

“So, when exactly  _ are _ we doing this?” Goldie suddenly asked, his voice almost drowned out among the crowding, loud students milling about them. 

“Not at lunch,” Bonnie immediately answered, as much to himself as to Goldie. “Putting them on the spot in front of half the student body would not be a good idea.”

_ Obviously. _

“Yeah, it’d probably send Salvage into a panic attack,” Goldie sighed. Bonnie turned to look at him, his ears promptly smacking a passing human in the face. He ignored their indignant cry-  _ you shouldn’t have been walkin’ so close to me, you ass- _ to watch the frowning bear. “Which would instantly earn the others’ hatred forever, I’m sure.”

_ Considering how close the five of them are, forever and then some. _

“Probably, yeah,” Freddy agreed as he stepped around someone. Meanwhile, Bonnie pushed someone out of his way. “But we can’t try in math class, either, since Jeggs, Creol, and Walker are in there, too.”

_ Quite aware, thanks. Bad enough we see them everyday at lunch, but math too? And I thought I already hated math. _

If there was one problem Bonnie had with being popular, it was being expected to spend time with  _ them. _ Creol was the school’s self-proclaimed queen bee, even though everyone knew the Fazcrew had much more influence than she did. She was rich and pretty, but she was mean-spirited and had absolutely no loyalty to her friends. Jeggs was... just...  _ ugh... _ and Walker- well, Walker wasn’t popular. Bonnie had no clue what Walker was but he wasn’t welcomed in either the popular, unpopular, or outcast groups.

_ Probably because he’s a teacher’s pet, a snitch and a troublemaker. _

“We could just wait until tomorrow,” Foxy suggested, and no one responded as he had to shove someone out of his way, as they simply weren’t walking. “Y’know, when we have to talk to ‘em one-on-one anyway.”

“Or if ya want we could just wait until Monday,” Chica added in with a shrug, glancing around at all of them. “You guys could try in gym.” Bonnie frowned.

_ You ain’t getting out of it that easily, Chica. _

“I don’t think approachin’ ‘em as a group- our group or their group or both- is a good idea, actually,” Goldie spoke up, frowning slightly. Freddy simply nodded in agreement. Bonnie said nothing, though he could definitely see the logic in it. Chica kept her silence as well.

“Why not?” Foxy questioned, and Bonnie resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He could just imagine the disaster  _ that _ would be.

“Well,” Goldie started, glancing over towards the fox, “they would probably react to us as a collective but we want ‘em to react as individuals, like they did in Dr. Schmidt’s class that very first day, right?”

“Right...” Foxy agreed slowly. It was a moment or two before realization registered in his eyes, and the fox glanced over at Freddy.

Bonnie pushed someone out of his way again, ignoring their complaints.

“So basically, we approach them one-on-one, not as groups,” Chica summarised and Bonnie nodded absently in agreement as Goldie confirmed it. “Seems a little... predatorial, doesn’t it? I mean, separate them from the pack...”

_ Putting it that way  _ does _ sound like a dick move. _

“It’s either that or let ‘em influence each others’ reactions,” Freddy explained, the group pausing as Freddy peeked into the classroom. “They’re already suspicious of us, they’ll be on alert even alone- if we approach ‘em as a group or all at the same time it might be seen as some kind of attack and put ‘em on even higher alert.”

“I feel like we’re making war plans,” Chica sighed, and Bonnie couldn’t help but agree. “This is ridiculous, they’re classmates the same age as us, we should be able to just approach them.”

Bonnie imagined how that would turn out. He almost laughed at the thought. Unfortunately, he mused unhappily, Chica had a point; by every right, they should have been able to just approach their classmates at any time.

_ We fucked that up years ago. _

They headed into the classroom, which was occupied only by the teacher himself- just a human, so they weren’t concerned at being overheard or anything by him. They all settled down in their seats- or, Freddy, Goldie, and Foxy did, but Bonnie and Chica both sat separated from them, so Bonnie temporarily dropped into the desk next to Goldie and Chica sat down behind him. They all turned to Foxy, who had ended up being the center of their deformed circle, and each leaned in so their instructor and the people in the hallway couldn’t hear them.

“So not here and not lunch, but you’re determined to try  _ today?” _ Foxy asked quietly as the bell began ringing the two-minute warning. “With the way they were actin’ yesterday they might not even come today,” he added, almost as a second thought.

“They’re here,” Freddy informed them quickly, and Bonnie frowned and glanced towards the ceiling. He could remember seeing them as they headed to their first class, but he had been somewhat... distracted with his own thoughts to notice anything. By the time it had registered with him that they were passing Rodriguez and Rodriguez’s friends, they had already been lost among the crowd. “I saw them this morning in the hall. They seem much more, ah... alive today.”

The fact that “alive” at all seemed like an improvement was almost depressing.

“We could try in art,” Chica put in after a few moments. “There’s not that many people in there.”

“Ashley Creol is,” Goldie immediately dismissed the notion, shaking his head, and Bonnie grit his teeth. Ashley Creol, the little blonde cheerleader, was more than slightly annoying and he  _ only  _ put up with her at lunch. “We approach them within her sight and the rumour mill will go wild. Plus, they stick together in that corner- and we  _ definitely  _ don’t want to approach them when they have their backs to a corner.”

The rabbit couldn’t help but snort at that, despite it not being even slightly funny. They all knew Goldie was one-hundred percent correct, and Bonnie remembered how Rodriguez had looked at him in science Monday- how  _ trapped  _ he had looked simply  _ sitting  _ there. How he became so... _ defensive. _

“Yeah, we don’t want that,” Foxy agreed, giving voice to Bonnie’s thoughts. “Really, I think we should wait for Monday, there’re less conflictin’ factors-”

“Excuse me.”

Eyes widening, Bonnie’s attention snapped to just a few feet in front of them- just to find Rodriguez and Rodriguez’s friends watching them, strange expressions on their faces.

_ Oh god did they hear any of that? How long have they been standing there? How’d they get in without me hearing them? Do they know we’re talking about them- fuck, what if they know we- _

“You’re in my seat,” Fischbach cut his thoughts off, and Bonnie blinked owlishly, confused for a moment as the bear looked straight at him.

After a few awkward moments, he realized  _ oh, I’m in Fischbach’s seat. _ “Oh- right.” He quickly slipped out of the desk, stepping over to his own. “Sorry.”

Chica slipped out of the other chicken’s seat and Bonnie sat down, watching as the group of friends gave them all strange looks. After a few seconds, though, they all began walking towards their seats, each one sitting down and falling into utter silence.

Other students filed in. Neither Bonnie nor his friends said a word.

Somewhere behind them, the whispering began.

* * *

Bonnie had never been very clumsy. In fact, he had really good balance and his hand-eye coordination was top-notch. He could count the number of times he had tripped on one hand, even. Being a rabbit, he always joked, came with its perks.

Therefore, the moment he felt his foot get caught on the leg of the desk, he wasn’t  _ too _ concerned-  _ I can catch myself, _ he reasoned, but then he found himself suddenly  _ falling _ thanks to his heavy bag. Instinctively, he reached out to try and catch himself on the desk, but rather than catching him, his arm slammed  _ hard _ onto the desk-  _ ow ow ow okay stupid decision- _ and somehow-  _ how, _ he didn’t know- the metal  _ beneath  _ the desk. In the end, he found himself lying, dazed, on the floor.

“Ow,” he muttered, pushing himself up and looking at his friends. Goldie looked somewhat amused.

“Karma,” the golden bear stated with a small grin, and Bonnie huffed as Freddy came over, offering a helping hand to him. 

“Oh yeah,” he started towards Goldie, “like you weren’t laughing, too.” Accepting the hand, Bonnie allowed the bear to pull him to his feet. Once he was steady on his feet, he lightly pushed the dislodged desk back into place.

“How the hell did you hit the doorframe, Foxy?” Chica asked, sounding a mix of amused and confused. Bonnie lightly rubbed at his aching arm before going to follow the others out the door.

“I was distracted,” was Foxy’s answer. He whined jokingly as he turned to Freddy, a pout on his face as he lightly poked his nose. “Is it broken?”

“Ya didn’t hit the wall  _ that _ hard,” Freddy answered, amused at their friend, and lightly pat the fox’s shoulder. Bonnie grinned. “Don’t worry, your nose is still on straight.”

“And I thought you were on my side,” Foxy whined melodramatically, wearing the most betrayed expression Bonnie had ever seen. “Oh how you wound me!”

“You deserved it,” Bonnie stated matter-of-factly, smirking over at the fox. When Foxy looked over towards him, however, some of that humour drained from his eyes as he rose a brow, his eyes flicking to Bonnie’s arm. Bonnie realized he was still rubbing it-  _ it still hurts. _

“Oh please,” Foxy started, dodging around a classmate just  _ standing _ there. “I deserve to go home.”

Without missing a beat, Bonnie and the others said, “Nah.” 

“You don’t get out of your embarrassment that easily,” Chica tacked on with an amused snort.

“On the bright side, only Salvage and his friends saw you stupidly walk into a wall,” Goldie informed the fox, and Bonnie wasn’t quite sure that that was a good thing. “So it’s not like it’ll get all around school.”

They entered the English classroom and claimed the desks they’d had the Tuesday before, Bonnie sitting between Freddy and the wall in the second row. Foxy dropped down in front of Bonnie and Chica sat next to him, while Goldie was, as expected, on Freddy’s other side.

“Who all’s in this class?” Freddy asked, glancing around at all of them. “I didn’t really pay much attention Tuesday.” Undoubtedly, Bonnie knew, it was because he was focusing so hard on his thoughts. He knew that because he himself had been thinking, too.

“All I know is Rodriguez and the rest of them are in here,” Bonnie answered him, shrugging. “They came in late, remember?” he added. Freddy glanced at him, the most blatant  _ no duh _ expression on his face, and Bonnie almost rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, we knew  _ they _ were in here,” Chica snorted, unintentionally voicing what Freddy’s expression was telling Bonnie. “Even if we hadn’t been watching them we would have.”

Bonnie knew she was right. Before, it had been a source of annoyance- an opportunity for Bonnie and Foxy to bitch to each other about their classmates- but now it offered an opportunity for them to  _ observe. _

It also offered a perfect opportunity for Bonnie to feel like even  _ more _ of an asshole as he realized more and more that they were just typical teenagers who just had an unfortunate situation and a bad rap.

_ Speaking of observation, I should really write down earlier’s interaction. They didn’t even insult us. Guess they really  _ do _ just  _ respond  _ to us. _

Next to him, Freddy and Goldie began talking, but before Bonnie could turn his attention to the brothers he felt a single, light tap on his shoulder. Confused, he turned around to face Rodriguez-  _ That bruise stands out really badly against his fu, does this happen often?r- _ who he  _ knew _ was sitting behind him-  _ when did they get here, anyway? I didn’t even notice. _

He didn’t get a chance to ask what the bored-looking rabbit wanted as the moment he turned around, Rodriguez said, “Henderson, you’re bleeding.” Bonnie blinked in confusion before looking at his arm and carefully touching the still-stinging area where his arm had hit the metal beams underneath the desk. 

Bonnie pulled his fingers away to look at the tips, finding the fur there had turned slightly darker- reddish, even.  _ Oh. I  _ am _ bleeding. Fancy that. _ “Oh,” he muttered. “That’s why it still hurts.”  _ I should have checked that after hitting the metal. I must have gotten cut by a loose screw or a sharp edge or something. _ He glanced back towards Rodriguez, who was simply watching him. Strangely enough, Bonnie noticed, there wasn’t a hint of amusement or annoyance in his eyes.

He just looked... bored.  _ And, _ Bonnie knew,  _ Bonito Rodriguez is never bored. _

“Er...” There was no way he could let a chance to be, uh,  _ friendly _ pass by, so he awkwardly added, “Thanks,” to the blue rabbit before turning to look at Freddy, pretending like he hadn’t noticed the flash of confused surprise in Rodriguez’s eyes. When Freddy turned to him, questioning brow raised, he said, “I’m gonna go to the nurse, if Mrs. Mittel asks.” He doubted she would. He’d just have to present her with the nurse’s note when he returned.

“Why?” Freddy asked, concerned, and Bonnie held his bloodstained fingers up for the bear to see. “Oh,” was all he could utter, and Bonnie slipped out of his seat just as the final warning bell rang. He went over to the door and took a left in the direction he knew the nurse’s room was. 

It wasn’t a long walk, but as the late bell rang and teachers gave him looks (one even telling him to “get to class”) he kept having to pause and say, “I’m going to the nurse.” Most didn’t seem to believe him until he showed them his arm, and then they let him pass without problem, but it was still annoying.

However, as he reached the nurse, it occurred to him that he’d now have to explain to the nurse that he tripped over a desk and somehow managed to get his arm cut on a metal beam of some kind.  _ Hopefully I won’t have to get a tetanus shot, _ he thought bitterly, lightly knocking on the nurse’s door. He wondered what sorts of details he was missing out on; they were sitting  _ right behind _ him in English, whatever they were talking about was literally  _ right there.  _ Sure Bonnie knew that there was no way they were discussing very personal matters when they were that close to Bonnie and his friends, but still- innocent conversation could tell you a lot if you just paid attention.

The nurse opened the door, raising a brow at him, and he simply lifted his arm to show the otter his arm. He was quickly ushered inside, the nurse never saying a word, and sat down on the stool the nurse gestured to. Then they got to work on Bonnie’s arm and he grit his teeth.

_ I wonder if this is the kind of thing that lot deals with on a daily basis... _

* * *

Bonnie saw it happening a moment before Foxy’s foot collided with the base of Chica’s easel, sending the backerboard, Chica’s work, and Foxy all falling to the floor...

And the ink in Foxy’s hand flying into the air.

He watched in thinly-veiled horror as the cup slammed into the ground, sending the ink nearly six feet into the air and  _ forwards, _ right towards the group that they were  _ supposed _ to be attempting to befriend. 

To Bonnie, everything seemed to be in both slow motion and happening too fast; he watched as Rodriguez’s eyes widened and he darted out of the line of fire, watched as Blanc leapt for the counter behind them, watched as Kain dove behind Salvage, and finally watched as the ink splattered against both Salvage and Fischbach, who were standing right beside each other.

Spidery black lines seeped into their clothes, into Fischbach’s arm, into the fur on Salvage’s face (thankfully, he noted, the rabbit instinctively shut his eyes- that was good, he highly doubted the group would willingly become friends with someone who accidentally blinded their friend with  _ ink)... _

Freddy helped Foxy up, and Bonnie just barely caught the fox’s, “Oh, shit.”

_ To say the least! If they even  _ look  _ at us now I’ll be shocked, what the fuck?! _

Ashley Creol and her “friends” laughed, but the sound didn’t really register in his mind. Instead, he watched as Salvage and Fischbach looked at each other.

Then Salvage smirked.

Just loud enough for the class to hear, the rabbit said, “Hey, Al, you got a little somethin’ on your shirt.” The bear simply smirked and tapped his own cheek, mirroring where the ink was drying in Salvage’s fur, and the rabbit’s eyes widened and quickly brought a hand up to his face.

_ He actually understood what Fischbach was saying. _

Bonnie glanced over towards Freddy, noticing that all five of them- himself included, of course- had begun relaxing. Salvage and Fischbach both looked amused and Rodriguez was grinning from where he was standing. Blanc seemed to be trying to hide their own laughter and Kain was peering out of her hiding spot amusedly.

It seemed like the potential crisis was averted, and  _ god _ was Bonnie grateful for that.

Of course that relief lasted only for a moment. 

It wasn’t often that anyone got a chance to see Salvage or his friends like that, and Bonnie hated knowing that just a few days ago he and his friends-  _ bar Freddy, of course- _ would have taken that opening. 

Without the Fazcrew there to take the opening, it was left to the cheerleader in the room.

“Well,  _ Springtrap,” _ and Bonnie’s eyes glanced over at the human. She was leaning against her easel, her hair falling in waves over her shoulders in that way that had all of the football players going crazy. Personally, Bonnie thought that hair would be annoying as hell. “Now you’ve got something to match that ugly scar, huh?”

Bonnie’s nose wrinkled in disgust at the weak insult. Salvage simply glanced at his friends, his expression unreadable, as Rodriguez, Blanc, and Kain took their places at his and Fischbach’s side again, their eyes glaring sharply at Creol. 

_ It looks like they’re more offended than Salvage is. _

And that was being  _ nice.  _ Where Salvage looked at Creol with a general distaste, the other four looked absolutely  _ pissed,  _ as though Creol had just overstepped some invisible boundary that  _ should _ have been obvious.

Dimly, Bonnie recognized those expressions. The first time the students had heard the name “Springtrap,” they had worn those exact same expressions... only a little less hateful and a little more disgusted.

“Yeah,” Rodriguez started, and Bonnie was immediately hit by a brick made of  _ shock;  _ they had  _ never _ responded to insults before. At least, not _ directly. _ “But it would match  _ so _ much better with your dead black heart.”

_ Ouch, _ Bonnie thought, almost amused at the insult. 

“If she even has one,” Blanc scoffed, scowling over towards Creol.

_ Double ouch. _

Never in the four years since Rodriguez and his friends noticed the Fazcrew’s hostility had they  _ ever _ responded  _ directly _ to them. In fact, Bonnie couldn’t remember a single moment in time where Rodriguez or his friends had addressed them in any way, just as the Fazcrew never addressed  _ them. _ It had been like... an unspoken rule or something.  _ You don’t speak to me, I don’t speak to you. _

And, it had seemed, the rest of the school had followed. Until now, anyway. 

_ Creol just broke the norm. _

“True,” Rodriguez agreed, crossing his arms and staring the human down. “Someone like her is nothing but an empty husk, anyway, feeding off of everyone else’s misery.”

_ Triple ouch.  _

It seemed that Rodriguez and his friends were more observant than Bonnie thought; Rodriguez knew about Creol’s little reputation-destroying habit, and none of the others looked confused at his words.

“Damn,” he couldn’t help but mutter to himself. “He’s never said anything like that about us.” And it was very true; the worst thing he could remember Rodriguez calling any of them was “asshole.”

“Asshole” versus “empty husk” and “dead black heart.” Yeah.  _ I feel like I should be offended by that. We’re not worth the good insults, apparently. _

Even so, he tried not to grin as Creol’s face flushed a very unappealing shade of puce and she straightened up, her hazel eyes blazing in anger. “What did you just say you Mexican fuck?!”

Instantly, his partial-grin slid off his face and he let out a low growl. Next to him, Chica muttered, “Excuse me?” and the bear brothers shared matching scowls. Clearly they were as unhappy with Creol’s words as much as he and Chica were.

_ Alright then, Creol, we’ll keep this in mind. _

“For the record,” Rodriguez drawled, his tone showing that he was  _ clearly _ unimpressed, “I’m  _ Spanish, _ not Mexican! Learn geography!”

_ Idiot. _

“Whatever,” Creol scoffed, making a show of inspecting her nails with her nose in the air. She was the very definition of haughty and if Bonnie was a lesser rabbit he would totally claw that holier-than-thou racist face off. “You still speak a stupid language, anyway.”

“I beg to differ,” Chica hissed under her breath and Bonnie’s ears twitched. Apparently, Rodriguez agreed with Chica’s sentiment; with a snarl, he suddenly started towards Creol (Bonnie was somewhat satisfied to see the cheerleader flinch), but then Salvage quickly grabbed his shoulder, preventing him from moving any closer.

It was threatening, Bonnie realized. Rodriguez’s action right then was a threat.

“Oh please,” the rabbit scoffed, glaring towards Creol but not making any attempts to step closer, “at least Spanish makes  _ sense, _ English is so weird- it’s an amalgamation of different languages.” Rodriguez’s eyes then widened in mock horror and apology, his hand flying up to his mouth as if he had just said something terrible. “Oops, sorry,” he started, voice  _ dripping _ with sarcasm, “I forgot- bimbos don’t know big words like amalgamation!”

Bonnie didn’t agree with Rodriguez’s summary about the English language, but he just  _ loved _ the way Creol’s  _ racist little _ face went even darker, her eyes sparking with fury. From the corner of his eye, Bonnie saw Mr. Smith, whose lips were pulled into a snarl of his own, start making his way towards them.

Angrily, Creol started, “I will-” 

“That’s enough, you two!” Mr. Smith cut off, his face flushed red. Bonnie briefly wondered where he was when the argument first began-  _ shouldn’t he have put a stop to this shouting match before it even began?  _ “Act your age, all of you!”  _ Excuse me but I think only Creol, Rodriguez, and Blanc were saying anything. Who’s this “all of you” you’re talking about? _

“Sorry, Mr. Smith,” Salvage quickly apologized, nervous as he pulled Rodriguez back into the group. “Won’t happen again.” Rodriguez muttered something that either went unheard or ignored by Salvage and Mr. Smith, and as Fischbach threw a short, reprimanding glare towards the rabbit Bonnie figured it was the latter.

“Get back to work, all of you,” Mr. Smith barked out, glaring around at all of them. “Mr. Salvage, Mr. Fischbach, if you need to go home and change clothes, you’re excused.” The teacher’s eyes fell on Foxy and Bonnie almost winced at the spark in his eyes, feeling somewhat bad for his friend being on the receiving end of it. “No more accidents, Mr. Jones.”

“R-right, got it,” Foxy squeaked nervously, rubbing the back of his head. Mr. Smith’s eyes began scanning the silent students.

“Ms. Sanchez, secure your backerboard properly,” he started, “and Ms. Creol,  _ easels are not for leaning! _ You break it, you pay the damages fee, got it? Mr. Fazbear, get that smirk off your face, and Ms. Sanchez, whatever you’re about to say;  _ don’t.” _

Bonnie, smartly, kept his mouth shut as the teacher gave out the orders, and he simply watched as Mr. Smith spun on his heel and marched back to the front of the room. 

As they all turned back to their easels (Bonnie noticed neither Salvage nor Fischbach made to leave), Bonnie heard Chica mutter, “For the record, Creol, Spanish is my first language. And I was  _ born _ in Mexico.”

He only wished he could see the cheerleader’s expression. Instead, he looked across the still life over to Rodriguez who had just shared a look with the taller rabbit beside him. Rodriguez turned to study the still life and Bonnie really looked at that bruise on his face, wondering not for the first time just who might have given it to him. Then Rodriguez suddenly looked right over at Bonnie, and for a few brief seconds, crimson met emerald.

As Rodriguez held his gaze, a stubborn gleam in his eyes, Bonnie was  _ sure  _ he saw resolve slam through like a freight train.

A freight train with no conductor.

Then those eyes were back on the still life, and Bonnie suddenly felt much more determined than before. He glanced around at everyone else, noting how tense they were, and then continued his, um... attempt at drawing the still life.

_ I’ll figure it all out, _ he promised silently.  _ And dammit, you’re gonna actually  _ talk _ to me, Rodriguez. _

_ Tomorrow. It’s the first chance we’ll have. _

With that decided, he continued with his sketch. The room was eerily silent, nothing but the sound of pencils and paintbrushes gliding across the paper filling the empty air.

* * *

As soon as Bonnie got home, he dropped down on his bed and practically ripped the notebook from his bookbag. Flopping down onto the mattress, he flipped the notebook open to the list, quickly added the date, and began that day’s list.

  1. _They all seemed much better off today. Still a bit weird, but better._
  2. _Math class- they stayed in group until all of their seats were empty, and_ then _split up. They were watching us warily, maybe they overheard us? (Doubt it; they would have avoided sitting behind us in English.) Made no comments to us._
  3. _Speaking of English, Rodriguez informed me (very flatly and to the point) that I was bleeding. Important: he actually spoke directly to me. Never happened before. Ever. Outside of Monday, of course._
  4. _I didn’t see them at lunch. Maybe they went out to the courtyard? It was a nice day. Blanc stares out the window a lot, maybe they like being outdoors?_
  5. _Art class fiasco; Ashley Creol succeeds in 1 minute what we could not accomplish in 5 years. She got a response out of them. Both sides pretty weak, but out of the two Rodriguez and Blanc completely owned her. She made racist comments, Rodriguez defended himself. (Rodriguez & Co. never start, only reciprocate; probably why they never responded to us, we never directly spoke to them. Give as good as they get.)_



Bonnie paused, gnawing on his lower lip as he thought about what else to write. It was nothing spectacularly groundbreaking- not like what he had yesterday- but... it was something.

Slowly, he wrote out,  _ 6\. Rodriguez didn’t smile. _

It didn’t seem like a big deal, honestly, but one thing everyone knew about Rodriguez was that he  _ always _ smiled. Those last few days, though, Bonnie didn’t really see him smiling much.

At least, not an  _ actual _ smile.

Bonnie tapped his pencil against the paper, trying to remember if there was anything he missed. He didn’t think there was.

_ Oh. Wait. Yes there is. _

Quickly, he drew a star at the bottom of the list and drew an arrow from it up to number five.

_ *Rodriguez almost became hostile in response to Creol’s insults. Was stopped by Salvage. _

That was important. He had never seen Salvage or any of them become hostile- well, that wasn’t completely true, he amended. There was that one time, he couldn’t remember if it was late middle or early high school...

The first (and last) time anyone ever tried to cop a feel on Kain, her friends had immediately lashed out at the guy- they hadn’t punched him like Bonnie would have, but Fischbach had “out of nowhere” (as the guy later claimed to students and teachers alike) just shoved the guy away from Kain while Rodriguez pulled her into the group and Blanc literally  _ growled _ at the guy, teeth bared and all. Salvage, he remembered, had simply glared and stood between the guy- who had fallen straight on his ass- and Kain, towering over the “pathetic little pervert,” as Blanc had called him. That was all that was said, and the guy didn’t try to fight, realizing five against one- he didn’t have a chance. Especially with the audience he had.

That was the only time Bonnie could remember them becoming hostile towards anyone.

_ But that was understandable, _ he reasoned.  _ That was harassment, and Kain looked absolutely horrified that it happened. If someone did that to Chica, lord knows I’d be sittin’ in the police station for puttin’ the son of a bitch in the hospital. _

_ And the others would be right there with me. Chica too. _

Sighing, he dropped the pencil onto his bed and stared at the notebook, unsure if there was anything else important that day. There had been no new bruises, no obvious injuries, no exhaustion, nothing. In fact, all of them had seemed more alive than they had all week, and that was honestly just  _ sad, _ all things considered.

A few seconds of consideration went by before Bonnie suddenly reached into his bag and pulled his phone out of its “secret” pouch, lighting the screen up and staring at the picture there.

It was him, his mother, and his “pops” standing in the front hall. Bonnie was taller than both of them and his mother was pulling on his ears, trying to  _ “make you shorter, you’re growing up too fast!”  _ He couldn’t help but smile. Such an innocent moment between family...

_ Just to think barely a month later, he was dead. _

His smile slipped away, and quickly, he unlocked his phone and brought his contacts up, removing the picture from his sight.  _ Don’t think about it, don’t think about it... _

_ What if it’s his parents? _

_ That _ made Bonnie pause even as he pulled the desired questionnaire out of his bag.  _ His parents? _ he repeated silently to himself. He couldn’t imagine it.  _ No parent could do that. They couldn’t. _

_ But Foxy’s did. _

It was bad enough imagining someone hurting- well, anyone, really, but imagining someone towering over small, possibly-cowering Bonito Rodriguez? It seemed almost criminal.

_ Especially _ to consider it might even be his  _ parents. _

As he laid the sheet of paper on his comforter and began typing the number out on his phone, he couldn’t help but wonder. He titled the contact very simply,  _ Advanced Science, _ not wanting anyone peeking over his shoulder at school to see exactly  _ whose _ number was in his phone- at least, not until he “officially” had a right to put it in his contacts list. If he ever did.

He stared silently at the number before saving it and exiting out of the contacts, coming face to face with that painfully happy memory again. He couldn’t even begin imagining either of them hurting him.

_ Can parents who  _ actually raise _ their kids really hate them that much? _

Frowning, Bonnie dropped his phone onto his bed and turned over to stare towards the window. He had never seen, even less  _ met, _ Rodriguez’s parents. He didn’t know anything about them- even less than he did about their son.

Briefly, Bonnie wondered what was happening with the younger rabbit right then- just what Rodriguez was going through and putting up with. What would he see when he went to school the next day? Would there be new bruises? More exhaustion? Any signs at all?

_ Salvage didn’t seem to want them to go home, _ he remembered, closing his eyes.  _ He said something about them staying at his house the entire weekend. _

Was it even possible for parents who had raised a child for nearly eighteen years- parents who had fed and clothed and taught and bathed a child, who had given him everything- to hate their own son?

_ God, I hope I’m wrong. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you were unaware, my Bonnie is a lop- his ears flop down instead of standing up like Blu’s ears do. And yes- he's been this way since the beginning, it's why his ears were in Foxy's way in that first car scene.


	9. An Angry Bunny, Blu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: The end has a pretty severe abuse scene but I don't go into too much detail. Just a warning for you.

The scent of pancakes was what woke him up early that morning. Blinking awake and feeling more comfortable than he had in weeks, he stretched out on the blankets and pillows that made up the “nest.” His hand bumped into the person next to him, and glancing over he saw Mangle stirring awake from their spot.

“Mornin’,” he greeted, sitting up and looking around. There were only two people left in the “nest” besides himself; Mangle and Plushie, the latter of whom was fast asleep, curled up in his brother’s blanket.

“Go to hell,” Mangle groaned softly, turning over to try and go back to sleep.

“Nah, I don’t wanna see my parents right now,” Blu sighed melodramatically, standing to his feet. The scent of pancakes was  _ very _ tempting... “I wonder where the others are.”

“Downstairs, kitchen,” Mangle responded simply, not expanding on it at all. Blu raised a brow at his friend.  _ Someone’s not a morning person today. _

“Right, I can smell that,” he muttered, trotting over to the door. He felt disgusting; he was in desperate need of a shower and had slept in his clothes from the day before.  _ Undoubtedly I look like a mess, too, _ he thought to himself, wandering down the dark hallway and to the landing of the grand staircase at the front of the house.

Spring’s house was huge- Blu couldn’t imagine someone living in a bigger house. It was beautiful, but it was... lonely. Cold. Quiet.

It wasn’t really a home, no matter how much he and his friends tried to liven it up. It was too big for just five teenagers and a child to bring to life, and though it was their safe haven, sometimes the echoing silence got to them.

Which had led to them accidentally nearly destroying the bowling alley in the basement, but that was a completely different story.

_ If we were normal teenagers, we’d probably throw parties here,  _ he thought, half-amused at the thought. It was so far from anything any of them would do that just imagining it was almost funny- almost impossible, even.

Realizing that he was just standing on the landing, staring down at the foyer, he moved to walk down the staircase to his right- the one closest to the formal dining room, which was attached to the kitchen. None of them took the narrow, hidden stairwells at the ends of the halls; they were creepy, cramped, and steep. As Alfred had once declared, they were complete deathtraps.

Spring kept the doors at the top and bottom of said narrow stairwells firmly locked to keep Plushie out and safe.

Reaching the bottom, he winced as his bare feet touched the freezing tile. “Ugh,” he groaned softly to himself, tiptoeing over to the dining room door. “Cold, cold, cold...” Unfortunately, opening the door and slipping inside wasn’t much better; the floor was still tile, and it was even colder without the large empty space hanging above. “Spring seriously needs to turn the aircon down,” he muttered, heading across to the kitchen.

Before he reached it, however, he paused, ears twitching. Inside he could hear three voices, but they weren’t speaking. They were singing, forming a beautiful harmony; Alfred’s lower, smoother voice with Spring’s lighter and Chii’s softer voices providing a countermelody. It was a beautiful sound and Blu couldn’t help but smile, tilting his head and twitching his ears.

It seemed like they weren’t really singing any words, just harmonizing their voices. That was okay, though; either way, it made Blu happy.

After several seconds of deliberation, he decided to leave the three of them alone and retreated to the bay window, slipping into the seat and pulling his legs up under him. There was no real reason to disturb them, and they would definitely send someone to get them once breakfast was ready...

The rain had long since stopped and he gazed out towards the trees lining the fence. In the darkness he could just barely make out their outlines, thanks to the street lights on the other side. It was peaceful.

Closing his eyes, Blu leaned his forehead against the glass. It was cold, just as cold as the tile had been, but he didn’t pull away. From across the room he could still hear his three friends’ voices. It almost made him forget the horror that would be waiting for him when he went home that night.

_ Maybe today will be a good day after all. _

He highly doubted it.

* * *

Blu felt like turning around and strangling the human behind him. All throughout the class period, the human had been annoyingly  _ throwing _ things at the back of his head, snickering as the rabbit brushed the items away- broken pencils, folded pieces of paper, any and everything small and barely noticeable.

Walker, the guy behind him, snickered. Blu grit his teeth.

Desperately searching for something to focus on, he found himself observing Mr. Fueller, who was walking around and helping the students struggling with their worksheet. Something about the way he was leaning over a familiar dark-haired human on the other side of the classroom left a bad feeling in his stomach, but he couldn’t  _ quite _ place what it was...

At least, he couldn’t until the teacher laid his hand on Marion Marshal’s shoulder. Blu practically  _ saw _ the dreary teen tense up under his baggy clothes, the discomfort of the unnecessary interaction clear in his posture. Mr. Fueller leaned too close and Marion, attempting to put some distance between himself and the mathematician, leaned slightly away.

Blu felt uncomfortable  _ for _ him.

Another piece of pencil landed on Blu’s shoulder, and agitated, he swept it off, purposefully flicking it back at the brown-haired  _ jackass _ sitting behind him. It apparently missed; he didn’t hear any exclamation of  _ ‘Mr. Fueller, Rodriguez threw something at me!’  _ after all.

And the little snitchy pet was well-known for calling other people out on their “bad” behavior.

A pencil poked him in the back and he tried not to wince as the point jabbed through the fabric of his shirt, hitting straight onto a bruise. It was an old, fading bruise, though; it didn’t hurt nearly as badly as his side did. It wouldn’t be  _ too _ hard to ignore it.

The pencil poked him again. Mr. Fueller finally removed his hand from Marion’s shoulder, the human relaxing as soon as he did, and walked around the classroom, looking down at the worksheets on desks as he did so, assumedly searching for wrong answers. 

Blu quickly turned his attention back to his page as the teacher approached him and Spring, scrawling out the equation under the problem he was doing. He knew he’d written it wrong- he had no clue whatsoever what he was doing, after all, _no one_ did- but as the teacher passed, he said nothing. A quick glance up showed Blu that he didn’t even  _ look _ at him, instead going straight to Jones sitting in front of him.

_ I don’t like him, _ he decided as yet another  _ thing _ landed on his drooping ears. Annoyed, he flicked said ear, making whatever it was drop to the ground.  _ I don’t like Walker, either. Oh my god, will you just stop?! _

The bell rang, and Blu let out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding. Immediately, most of the class jumped up out of their seats and  _ literally _ ran for the door. The only students left in the classroom were Blu, his friends, Marion, and the Fazcrew, though it was clear every single one of them wanted to get out of there as well.

However, a shout of, “Watch where you’re going!” sounded from right outside the hallway, and the obvious sounds of a fight started, making Blu hesitant to leave. He watched as Mr. Fueller dropped his pencil and raced out the door, presumably to put an end to the fight. 

Sighing, Blu stood up and headed over to Alfred’s desk, where his friends had congregated to wait for the rest of class to file out.

“First week of school and there’s already a fight,” Mangle sighed dramatically, leaning on the bear’s desk. “It’s like this place is full of brutes.”

“Give them a break, Mangle,” Spring started. “They’re just letting off steam.”

Mangle opened their mouth to protest when the sound of a  _ smack _ reached their ears, and all five of them turned their attention to the door where Jones stumbled backwards, hands flying up to his face. 

“Ow!” 

Blu wanted to laugh  _ so _ badly, but then Henderson started laughing and it suddenly seemed much less funny.

“Stop laughin’!” the fox growled to his friend, turning to face him.

“Never!” Henderson declared as he continued towards the door, but he failed to notice just how close to the desks he was walking; he proceeded to stumble over the legs of a desk, fall down, and his arm slammed  _ hard _ into the desk, clearly audible through the room, as he attempted to catch himself. 

Blu winced at the sound, remembering suddenly the feeling of being thrown into a wall. He remembered how badly  _ that _ hurt, and he knew hitting the desk was just a small taste of his everyday life, but still... 

“Ow...” the purple rabbit groaned, but he didn’t seem to be  _ badly _ injured, so Blu turned his attention back to his friends. None of them seemed amused by the rabbit’s misfortune, and Blu had a feeling it was for the very same reason he wasn’t.

Spring was absently rubbing his chest where Blu knew his most noticeable scar-  _ the one that almost killed him-  _ was, undoubtedly remembering the day he’d received it. Alfred’s face, as usual, was drawn into its normal neutrality, but there was a certain look in his eyes that told Blu he wasn’t as unaffected as he’d like to be, and Mangle had taken to gripping their wrist and glancing towards the ceiling, shifting their weight from leg to leg.

Chii was the only one spared from memory lane, but she was peering around at all of them in concern. Not wanting her to worry, Blu flashed her a grin and said, “It’s fine.”

“You don’t look like it’s fine,” she accused, and immediately Spring dropped his hand down by his side.

“We should get to English,” the golden rabbit stated, glancing around at them all. Alfred nodded in agreement, but Mangle gave no indication that they had heard at all. Blu frowned. “It sounds like the fight’s over.”

“Yeah,” Blu agreed, turning back towards the door. The Fazcrew were gone- Blu hadn’t noticed them leaving- and the traffic in the hallway had thinned out. “Before we’re late. I swear Mrs. Mittel has it out for us.”

“Then let’s go,” Spring sighed, heading towards the door. Blu and Chii followed, and Alfred trailed behind, guiding Mangle.

It was a short walk to their English class, but they took it slowly. The seats had already been claimed, after all; they knew exactly where they were sitting.

And, Blu mused bitterly, it was right behind the Fazcrew. Tuesday they’d had to make a pit stop before going to English, so they had almost been late... which resulted in only one group of desks to be vacant when they arrived. If they didn’t want to be split up, they had to bite the bullet and sit behind their least favourite people in the entire school.

When they arrived in the classroom, they wandered to the desks they had sat in  _ last _ time. Blu slid into his seat, tossing a customary glare towards Henderson’s back- not that the taller rabbit would see it, but it felt nice to do anyway- and settled down. Beside him, he heard Spring’s phone vibrate- his heart almost stopped, but it vibrated only once. He glanced over at Spring, watching him pull his phone out and tap something out on it. 

Then the rabbit frowned and began typing something-  _ a text. It must be Mimi, _ Blu realized, shifting his gaze away. He heard his friend practically slam his phone down on his desk.  _ Whatever it was, Spring obviously does not like it... _

Blu watched the Fazcrew. None of them were looking back at them, so that was good, but that didn’t mean they weren’t  _ watching. _ It wasn’t like-

Blinking, Blu’s gaze slid down to Henderson’s arm-  _ the one that hit the desk. _ It took him a moment to see it through the rabbit’s violet fur, but there was a cut in his arm; the only reason Blu noticed it was because the violet fur was starting to turn red.  _ He’s bleeding, _ he realized, glancing up at the back of Henderson’s head.  _ He’s bleeding and doesn’t even notice it. _

Blood wasn’t easy to get out of fur, and it was even harder to get out of clothes, Blu knew. Plus it didn’t have a pleasant scent, not to mention it meant that someone was injured in some way. Blu  _ hated _ bleeding, though it was such a normal part of his life, and he wondered if Henderson was even used to it.

The fact that his first instinct hadn’t been  _ check for blood, _ Blu could only guess not. 

After a second or two of silent debate, Blu set his pencil down and leaned forward, lightly hitting the rabbit’s shoulder to get his attention. Henderson jumped slightly in his seat and turned around, his brows drawn together in confusion. Before he could ask anything, though, Blu pointed at his arm.

“Henderson, you’re bleeding,” he stated flatly, watching the rabbit blink at him. Then Henderson turned his gaze to his arm, reaching over to lightly touch the injury.

“Oh. That’s why it still hurts,” he muttered, glancing at the blood on his fingertips. He looked back at Blu, an unidentifiable expression on his face. “Er... thanks,” he said awkwardly before turning to the bear next to him. “I’m gonna go to the nurse, if Mrs. Mittel asks.” The warning bell rang, as if emphasizing the fact that Henderson was about to miss classtime.

“Why?” Fazbear asked, obviously confused, and Henderson simply held his fingers up to show him the blood. “Oh.”

With that, Henderson slid out of his desk and headed for the door, and Blu felt more than a little confused.

_ He just thanked me.  _ Never before had any of their fellow students thanked him for anything- not that he helped many of them out, but still. When he did, it mostly went ignored.

_ Especially _ by the Fazcrew.

Blu picked his pencil up again and began twirling it, shifting his attention over to his friends. 

_ Just don’t think about it. It doesn’t mean anything, Blu. _

* * *

The sound of a crash echoed through the art room, and Blu looked over towards the fallen fox moments before his cup of ink shattered on the ground, sending ink flying a good six feet in the air.

Flying right in  _ their _ direction.

With a small shriek, Blu darted away-  _ I can  _ not  _ get ink on my clothes, my parents will flip!-  _ and barely registered Chii hiding and Mangle practically lunging at the counter. He watched, not sure if he should be horrified or incredibly amused, as the ink splashed on Spring and Alfred both, whipping across them and staining their shirts, pants, and in Spring’s case, his face.

Alfred immediately attempted to get the ink off of his bare arm, not wanting it to stain his fur, and Spring seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he had ink on his face.

_ “Oh shit,” _ he heard Jones mutter, and he glanced over at the fox as one of the Fazbears- the younger, he registered- helped him to his feet.

“Hey, Al,” Spring started, his tone taking on a playful tone, “you got a little somethin’ on your shirt.” Alfred’s only response was a snort and a tap on his cheek. Spring, obviously, understood, as his eyes widened and his hand flew to his own cheek, lightly touching the liquid seeping into his fur there. Blu grinned.

Then Ashley  _ fucking _ Creol just  _ had _ to open her mouth, and Blu’s gaze snapped to the blonde human leaning against her easel. “Well, _ Springtrap,” _ she called, her tone just  _ dripping _ with sugary venom, smirk broadcasting for the world to see just how funny she thought this moment was. “Now you’ve got something to match that ugly scar, huh?”

Blu scowled and walked back over to his friends as Chii came out of hiding and Mangle slid off of the counter and joined them, each glaring at the human.

“Yeah,” Blu snarked, eying the blonde whose gaze now landed on him. Normally he wouldn’t allow such comments to phase him, but Spring’s scars... well, not even the Fazcrew talked about  _ those _ beyond calling him Spring _ trap, _ and that was an immature nickname. Blu didn’t appreciate the little bitch’s trespass. “But it would match  _ so _ much better with your dead black heart.”

He felt a little knot of satisfaction as the other students’ eyes widened in shock and Creol scowled at him. Before she could respond, however, Mangle added, “If she even has one.”

“True,” Blu gave, crossing his arms. He didn’t take his eyes off of Creol. She was flushing in anger. “Someone like her is nothing but an empty husk, anyway, feeding off of everyone else’s misery.”

No one could even refute it, either. Ashley Creol just  _ loved _ ruining people’s reputations and destroying friendships. She even targeted her own friends, and  _ everyone _ knew it.

Her eyes flashed dangerously as she straightened up, her lips twisting into a scowl. “What did you just say, you Mexican fuck?!”

_ If you’re gonna be racist, get the race right, bitch. _

“For the record,” he started with a scowl, eyes narrowing at the human, “I’m  _ Spanish, _ not Mexican! Learn geography!”

“Whatever,” she scoffed, crossing one arm over her torso and lifting the other to look at, a haughty air about her as she lifted her chin. “You still speak a stupid language, anyway.”

To be honest, Blu wasn’t exactly patriotic to Spain. The memories he had there were just as bad as the memories he had in America. That being said, Blu was fucking  _ proud _ to be bilingual, he was fucking  _ proud _ that Spanish was his mother tongue and first language and he was working on becoming  _ multilingual, _ thank you very much, and if he was honest with himself, he  _ did _ prefer speaking Spanish over English. It was smoother than English, fell off of his tongue easier and more naturally, and it just in general made more sense to him.

The fact that the first four or five years of his life was spent solely speaking and hearing Spanish  _ might _ have had something to do with that, but I digress.

He snarled at Creol and started forwards, more than a little satisfied to see the quick flash of fear in the human’s eyes, but then Spring grabbed his shoulder tightly, preventing him from getting any closer to her. “Oh please,” he scoffed at her, “at least Spanish makes  _ sense, _ English is so weird- it’s an amalgamation of different languages.” He then gasped in mock-horror, lifting a hand dramatically to his lips as he added with false sincerity, “Oops, sorry, I forgot- bimbos don’t know big words like amalgamation!”

He wasn’t sure if it was his show of “patriotism” to a country he wasn’t even born in or his insult to her intelligence that caused the flush of anger to rise to her cheeks. Either way, he felt  _ extremely _ satisfied as she glared darkly at him. “I will-” she started, but then Mr. Smith finally intervened. 

One look at his face and Blu knew they’d all just fucked up.

“That’s enough, you two!” Mr. Smith almost shouted, glaring between Blu and Creol. His face was flushed a strange purplish-red, clearly displeased. “Act your age, all of you!”

“Sorry, Mr. Smith,” Spring started, a nervous lilt to his voice as he pulled Blu back. Blu didn’t fight the stronger rabbit, knowing he had overstepped a boundary somewhere. “Won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Blu muttered to himself, earning a glare from Alfred. However, the comment went ignored by both Spring and Mr. Smith.

“Get back to work, all of you,” Mr. Smith commanded, and Blu relaxed as he realized that the artist wasn’t about to actually punish them. “Mr. Salvage, Mr. Fischbach, if you need to go home and change clothes, you’re excused.” Well that was nice of him, Blu mused, but he knew there was no way in hell Alfred was willing to go home. “No more accidents, Mr. Jones,” the teacher added, glaring towards the fox.

“R-right,” Jones stuttered nervously. “Got it.”

“Ms. Sanchez, secure your backerboard properly, and Ms. Creol,  _ easels are not for leaning! _ You break it, you pay the damages fee, got it?” Mr. Smith’s eyes snapped over to a different part of the room, and Blu managed to glance over and find him looking at Freddy Fazbear, of all people, who was...  _ smirking. _ As if something Mr. Smith said had amused him. “Mr. Fazbear, get that smirk off your face, and Ms. Sanchez, whatever you’re about to say;  _ don’t.” _

As Mr. Smith returned to his desk, everyone else returned to their easels, Jones notably going to get a paper towel to clean up his mess with.

Blu picked his pencil up from where he’d dropped it and looked back at the still life. Across from him, Sanchez turned to look at Creol, and Blu just barely managed to catch her mutter,  _ “For the record, Creol, Spanish is my first language. And I was  _ born _ in Mexico.” _

Blu shared a look with Spring at the defensive statement, but he could understand Sanchez’s feelings at the moment. Her heritage and mother tongue had been insulted by someone who was supposed to be a friend, even in the loosest possible definition of the word. She was probably even more offended than Blu was. 

The expression that crossed Creol’s face at Sanchez’s words was oddly satisfying, and for some reason, so were the displeased looks the rest of the Fazcrew sent her way.

_ Apparently they don’t like racists any more than we do, _ he mused thoughtfully, continuing his sketch. He found it odd, though; the Fazcrew hadn’t interfered in the almost-fight at all, and now that it was over, they seemed to be  _ against _ Creol.  _ But that doesn’t mean they’re on our side, either. _

Jones popped up, the ink-stained towels in his hand, and he muttered a “sorry” to them before scurrying off to his spilled supplies. Blu kept his eyes on the still life, trying to eyeball the angle of a strangely triangular vase.

_ They shouldn’t be thanking or apologizing to us. They shouldn’t even by association be siding with us. They should be insulting us, blaming us, like they’ve done for years. _

His gaze flicked up from the still life, and not for the first time he found crimson eyes staring at him. Blu held the gaze for a few seconds before tearing his eyes away, looking back at his sketch.

_ It’s because of Monday, _ he knew, staring intently at the sketch on his page. It was only half complete.  _ Monday and maybe even Wednesday. When they saw.  _

_ We’ve really fucked up, and the first week of school isn’t even over yet. _

Henderson was still watching him. He could practically  _ feel _ the rabbit staring at him, watching for any weakness, but Blu was determined to let nothing show.

_ I’m done fucking up, _ he decided, determination filling him suddenly.  _ Whatever you lot are playing at- it’s over. _

With that in mind, he continued sketching.

The silence settled over the class like a blanket, smothering even the tiniest spark of life. No one spoke.

* * *

He crept, as quietly as possible, up the fire escape, his heart racing much faster than it should have been. He carried only his bookbag with him, having left his guitar in the safety of Spring’s room.

Blu knew he was in  _ major _ trouble. He had ignored every phonecall his parents made, ignored every single voicemail, didn’t read a single one of their texts- nothing. They were  _ pissed _ and he knew it, so he left his guitar so that it wouldn’t become collateral damage.

Spring had wanted him to stay another night, but Blu knew it would only make things worse. He was grateful that his friend cared so much about him, but he couldn’t put so much pressure on the rabbit- especially when Spring didn’t have his medicine.

Breathing in the night air, he carefully approached his window and peered into his bedroom. The door was wide open and the covers had been ripped from his bed, as though someone had thought he was lying there and had tried to wake him rather... violently. He shivered at the image in his mind; his mother storming into his untouched bedroom, shrieking at him to  _ get the hell up, you little bitch! _ And then she would rip the comforter away to find an empty bed. In her anger she would have torn through his room, looking for any trace of him, and then she would begin the phonecalls, the texts, voicemails...

The threats that were in absolutely _no way_ empty.

Taking a deep, steadying breath he began opening the window, wincing at every squeak and creak, praying to whatever deity might have been listening to  _ please don’t let mom or dad hear me... _

When no one appeared at the door he continued prying the window open, and as quietly as he could he slipped into the room. The stale air-  _ like dirty clothes, blood, smoke and alcohol- _ slammed into him and he almost gagged.

_ Oh god it smells so bad in here, _ he thought disgustedly, and swiftly he pulled the curtains on his window closed, leaving the window itself slit open. The apartment could  _ definitely _ use some fresh air.  _ How the hell did I not notice that before? _

That taken care of, he spun around and tossed his bag onto the bed where it landed softly and almost soundlessly, and he hurried as quietly as he could to the door, ready to close it and throw the lock into place.

However, the moment he touched the door, a dull blue hand clamped around his wrist, the long yellow-painted nails digging into his flesh.

Flinching, he slowly looked up into the glaring hazel eyes of his mother. There was a snarl on her lips and anger flashed through her eyes.

“Where the  _ hell _ have you been?” she growled at him, her crushing grip tightening even more.

“I-I didn’t do anything,” he immediately started, but she yanked on his arm, pulling him out into the hallway before he could even begin to explain himself. He stumbled, nearly falling, but her grip on his wrist kept him upright. 

“When I call you, you  _ answer _ you worthless little slime,” she hissed, promptly slapping him across the face. Blu felt her claws-  _ trimmed into perfect little daggers!- _ slice across his cheek and he whimpered, his free hand flying up to his face. “Where were you?!”

“I-I was with a friend,” he tried to say, but then the rabbit grabbed him by the shoulders.

“You  _ don’t have friends!” _ she practically shrieked, roughly shaking him so that his head snapped back and hit the wall-  _ when did a wall get behind me?! _ “Why would anyone want to hang out with a pathetic  _ leech _ like you?” She shoved him back into the wall, the force knocking the wind out of him. “Where were you really?” she demanded, grabbing his left ear and yanking on it.

He yelped and reached up, attempting to grab her wrist and  _ make it stop please, just stop, _ but she slapped his hand away without a care. “I-I told you, I was with a friend,” he protested, attempting to back away from her before remembering that his back was already to the wall.

Silently, he wondered if the neighbors could hear this. And if they could, why didn’t they do anything? Even if every word was shrieked and stuttered in Spanish, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on...

_ It’s simple, Blu. They just don’t care. _

_ You’re just the immigrant’s kid. _

_ An anchor baby, as they say. _

_ No one cares about kids like you. _

_ Kids like you deserve this. _

He shoved the sudden thoughts aside a moment before his mother’s hand collided with the side of his head, sending him stumbling to the ground. He tried to catch himself with his hands but the force of the impact only caused more pain in his arms and he collapsed into a crumpled mess on the floor.

“Pathetic,” his mother spat down at him, and then she  _ kicked _ him.

In the side.

Where he was bruised and cut and not yet healed.

He went pale and cried out in pain, curling up and gripping his side. “S-stop, please,” he cried, screwing his eyes shut. He could feel the tears stinging his eyes as that foot, so small yet so powerful, slammed into his side again.

“Freak,” she growled down at him. “What are you, a man or a child?”

_ I’m only seventeen! _ He didn’t say anything, though, instead biting his tongue.  _ If I don’t talk back, maybe she’ll leave me alone. _

“Answer me, you fucking  _ bitch!” _

_ Or maybe not... _

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, just barely loud enough for the rabbit above him to hear.

“I didn’t ask for an apology,” she snarled, kicking him again. “Answer my question!”

He couldn’t. He knew his answer would be wrong either way.

She grabbed his ears and yanked him back to his feet, glaring angrily at him. His eyes were still tightly closed, but Blu didn’t need to see to know she was glaring at him.

He was so used to the feeling...

Then something slammed into his face- it  _ so _ did not feel like a hand or a foot- and he let out a pained shriek, jerking back into the wall again. His hands flew up to his left eye, and shocked he opened his right to look the the woman in front of him.

She was holding a now-broken glass bottle in her hand.

_ She hit me in the face  _ with a beer bottle, _ oh my god what do I do oh god oh god- _

His mother then threw the remains of the bottle at him and he just barely managed to stumble out of the way, it shattering right next to his shoulder rather than on his chest. He could feel blood dripping down his face, through his fur and fingers... it was hot and sticky and such a familiar feeling...

But he had never been hit right  _ there _ before- not with a  _ bottle, _ of all things. His mother was usually smarter than that. Trying to open his eye, he could  _ feel _ the cuts on his eyelid. Already he could feel the ache through the burning pain, telling him that it was going to bruise and, more likely than not, swell.

Mrs. Rodriguez turned on her heel and stalked away, muttering about “useless, pathetic sons,” and all he could do was watch her go. She disappeared into a room and the door slammed shut, and slowly Blu let himself slide down the wall, the rough splintered wood of the wall catching and pulling his shirt up.

The glass on the floor stabbed into his legs, but the pain was nothing compared to what he felt in his face. Tears mixed with blood, literally adding salt to the wound, and it dimly registered with him that he needed to check the damage-  _ maybe it’s not as bad as it feels? _

It was a longshot at best, he knew, but it gave him the motivation to climb back up to his feet and stumble into the bathroom. He closed the door as quietly as he could with just one hand, and then he quickly turned the lock and looked into the mirror.

_ I look like something out of a horror movie, _ he observed, ears drooping behind him. Even with one hand clamped over his eye, he could see the blood simply  _ pouring _ down his face. There were five scratches on his still-bruised cheek, and it was so obvious that it was from a hand that he wanted to cry even more.

However, he  _ did _ consider himself lucky, slowly removing his hand from over his eye. It was pretty awful looking, but from what he could assume, she had swung from the left side; it hadn’t hit his eye directly, it didn’t reach the eyeball itself, and the scratches on his eyelid were clearly from shrapnel. However, the area  _ around _ his eye- on his brow, under it, and directly to the left of it- looked  _ raw. _

It made his stomach squirm. He could see some glass still stuck where she had struck him, so shoving the squeamish feeling aside, he began slowly picking the glass out, wincing at every sharp sting of pain.

_ What was that rule again...? Head injuries need doctors? Well... I don’t think this counts,  _ he decided, shivering at the thought of a doctor. He grabbed a rag-  _ not really good for this job but it’s all I have- _ and poured water over it, then carefully he began dabbing at the cuts.

It burned, but he had to clean them.  _ First step, remove the blood and dirt, _ he quietly told himself as he did just that. Once the blood was removed, however, it looked a lot less severe. Noticeable, yes, but much less severe.  _ Now for the actual cleaning. _

The thought made him shudder; it was going to hurt even  _ more.  _ But, he knew, it would be better in the long run.

_ Clean it now and feel the pain for a little bit, or get an infection, go to a hospital, possibly lose your eye, and live in pain for possibly weeks? Yeah, that’s an obvious choice. _

He chose not to think about the fact that, by every right, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

Silently, he wondered what he would say to his friends. He wondered what he would say to his teachers. What he would say to nosy and/or concerned classmates.

What he would say to Henderson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Blu can't catch a break...
> 
> PSA: If you get hit in the face or head with a bottle, or anything really, go to the freakin' hospital. Don't do what these poor babs are doing, get professional help ASAP 'cause this kind of thing that Blu is doing can come back to bite you in the ass. (That's also a spoiler alert, but I won't tell you who it's for.)


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